To Find Shamballa
by Jennifer Darknight
Summary: Alfons Heiderich had gone to Transylvania to study his passion, and to maybe find a way to help his tattered home country. Little did he know that he would find Edward Elric. My Ed x Alfons epic, spanning the movie timeline and beyond...divergence.
1. Prologue

**Title: **To Find Shamballa

**Pairing: **Edward Elric x Alfons Heiderich

**Side Pairings: **Alphonse Elric x Winry Rockbell, Roy Mustang x Sheska, onesided Roy Mustang x Riza Hawkeye

**Rating: **G-NC-17

**Note: **This is the remake of the entire Movie arc, as I would do it. This is heavy DIVERGENCE. This is EXTREME DIVERGENCE. DIVERGENCE WITH A CAPITAL DIVERGENCE xD

* * *

Germany, 1921.

In the wake of the Great War, a great recession hit the country, unemployment hitting an all-new high…and inflation making things go from bad to worse faster than any of us could have dreamed it would. We had lost the war, so we were the ones who had to pay reparation with the Treaty of Versailles—the once-great Economy we once had was diminished to nothing…leaving some men to wander mad in the streets…others to sink in sorrow at the devastation our motherland had now become stuck in.

Myself…

My family had never known riches. My mother worked in the factories during the war, but before that she was a simple housewife…my brother left for God-knows-where during the war…I haven't seen him since. I don't know what happened to my father either…he went off to fight, but nobody's told me what has become of him. We've received no word if he was dead, but all I can do is hope for the best, even after my mother has passed on and my brother is gone.

As a scholar, with high test scores and a body too weak for fighting, I was kept away from the front lines…rather kept on the home front. I was 'too useful' to be wasted in battle, I guess.

My family was gone, but I remained.

So I traveled on…

Rocketry was my passion. Rocketry and mechanics…space flight. Imagine the sorts of things mankind could do if they could only go to those stars, and imagine what would happen if Germany was the country that received such knowledge first. Before the Americans, before the Russians. Before those haughty other countries that threw us down…mocked us.

Germans spearing babies, indeed.

So I traveled, catching word of a man in Transylvania…Herr Oberth, who had studied in the University of Munich, and was looking for apprentices, to further study his craft.

I had to meet him. It was almost a necessity…like breathing.

I went on…hopping from train to train…

Leaving home and country behind.

In pursuit of a greater goal. A greater purpose.

It's funny what a man does in pursuit of knowledge…and what one single action can do to change his life forever.


	2. An Ordinary Day

**Transylvania, 1921. **

**----**

_**Name: Alfons Heiderich**_

_**Age: 15**_

_**Occupation: Apprentice Rocketry Engineer**_

**----**

"Hey, Alfons!"

Machine oil, whirring bearings, the scream of engines…to most this would be horrendous…annoying, maybe. Women would complain about the feel of the grease on their dresses, and most men would growl irritably at the sound…probably saying that it hurt their ears, or maybe that it distracted them from whatever important things they needed to do…such as mundanely reading the paper, or talking about things to make them feel self-important…more intelligent than they actually were, in the hopes of giving off the impression that they were intellectuals, or something of said type. Something perhaps that said that they hadn't seen the horrors of the recent war…though that was something that everyone wanted to forget, and one couldn't blame them for that.

Mix those smells, the fog coming up from the bursting of the failed engines, the fizzlepopping of crackling gears…

The ungodly heat…

The tiny size of the blueprints sitting next to them, mixed with the constant worry of them being smeared or torn from the constant nearby activity…

Most would rather eat the horrible concoctions known as Herr Oberth's home cooking rather than put up with it. It was a rather acquired existence. One that was not for the faint of heart but for the most stubborn of men (or women too, if they so wished…though there were few who wanted to ease out of the easy housewifing life in the pursuit of intellectual gain…he had met one during his travels, but…), but none who actually lived with it cared not one bit.

Alfons Heiderich wiped his forehead, rising from his previous crouch and stepping towards the guardrail, looking down at the man on the level below him.

Herr Dorrecht was a nice enough guy—hailed from Berlin, or so he heard…he showed up about six months before Alfons did, in fact. In this place, not many asked questions…nobody really cared about where you were from, or what you did for a living…so long as you had the drive to work, the passion for engineering, and the genius to put both together. But Alfons couldn't help but notice that he was a bit short…and maybe a bit short-_tempered_ for most people's liking, though he did what he could for those who knew him well…like a loyal dog who barked too easily and too much, perhaps. At least, that's how he saw it.

Though he had been wrong before. God knew he was sometimes bad at judging people…especially with his innocence.

"Yeah?" Alfons called.

"Herr Oberth wants to see you!" Dorrecht shouted back.

Alfons blinked. "Me? Why would he want to see me?"

"Hell if I know—just get down here!"

"I'm coming!"

Four months already. It certainly didn't feel that long. It was still hard for Alfons to get used to the sounds sometimes…the smells. The scent of machine oil still sometimes made him high, and it was hard for him to get used to the workroom—he still tripped on that damn staircase every single time he tried to go up. Blame natural leg-clumsiness and anxiety, perhaps. Engines were tuned and worked on the top floor, but they were tested on the bottom floor…they weren't heavy, though Law (everyone knew that wasn't his real name…though that's what they called him in any case) insisted that he carry them nonetheless…he was big enough, so nobody argued with this idea, of course.

…Everyone except Alfons, the resident Pollyanna.

Though all he would get in return for that gesture was a laugh and a shake of the head.

Did he really seem so fragile?

Maybe it was his face…he was told that he had his mother's face, after all. His mother's face and his father's build…which together probably made him look…well…

Strange.

He couldn't say feminine…but strange.

Letting out a sigh, he combed his fingers through wheat-blond hair, stretching his arms before heading to the stairs.

He hated those damn things…were never stable enough. He had tried fixing it himself, but he ended up falling from down from the ledge and nearly broke his leg. His hands were steady, but balance beam gymnast Alfons was _not_.

He had to grapple onto the railing just to allow him to get down safely…though that wasn't too hard, at least…

"Alfons, hurry up!"

"Yeah—sorry!"

How could everyone else get down the stairs so safely—it never ceased to surprise him how even someone as huge as Law could step down without any help but Alfons had to lean and cling to the rail just to get down to the bottom, and even then it was hard to get down without falling.

But still…

Four months there. It really had been that long, hadn't it…

"Herr Dorrecht, did he tell you what he wanted?"

He shook his head. "Notta thing. Just said that he needed to talk to you about something."

"Vague as ever, I guess. Well…Engine 3 is still being worked on…let's try to get our set done and working before Bido's team gets finished with his."

"I'll pick up on it—now move your ass! God knows his speeches take long enough as it is."

"Duly noted. I'll try to hurry."

* * *

There was never a question of duty in this household. Herr Oberth worked on his own theories, meanwhile the apprentices practiced their own craft by forming teams and competing against one another, seeing which of them could complete any given task the fastest, and the most efficiently…and while all that was going on, Frau Oberth cooked and cleaned…took care of the house. She was a patient woman though…dealt with the likes of Alfons and the other engineers with stride…though she was almost like a mother. She made them clean up after themselves, make their own beds, and wash their own dishes when they were done eating. 

It reminded Alfons fleetingly of his own mother…when she was still alive.

Though granted, his mother was much more fussy. Wouldn't even let Alfons go out in the rain with an umbrella, for God's sake. Said it would catch him a death of a cold.

Ah, he missed her…much more than he was willing to admit…even to himself.

Coming home to a warm smile after the teasing he received at school was always a blessing…

But this place had its own charm too. Its own way of doing things…its own…

"Alfons!"

…definitely its own charm.

Little Noa was only four; a spritely little thing with dark skin and long brown hair, with a pair of brown eyes that were almost too large for that round, cute face of hers. How long had she been there, under the Oberths' roof? Certainly longer than Alfons had been…

She was some sort of tribal girl…that he knew. A gypsy perhaps…they were from Transylvania, weren't they? Or was that from Hungary? He could never really remember. One didn't see Gypsies walking the streets, after all…they were nomads, wandering from place to place…

But she was obviously stationary…but she was too little to be a servant, and Frau Oberth took good care of things as she was…

He had figured a surrogate child…

Though it seemed that he was the only one that she talked to.

"Noa! You know you shouldn't be running around here by yourself. The work area and the hallways near it are dangerous…someone might trip over you…you might get hurt."

Her eyes fell, and the girl tugged at the skirt of her violet dress, trying valiantly to match Alfons's long, quick strides.

It was only polite to slow down to match her tottering gait, of course.

"I-I know…b-but…Herr Oberth wanted to see you…"

"It's sweet that you'd like to help out, but Dorrecht already let me know. And you know that if Frau Oberth catches you in these hallways you're bound to get in trouble."

"You won't tell, will you?"

"Of course I won't tell, Noa."

"O-okay."

A few more steps…

"S-so…" Noa's voice was tiny as Alfons opened a door, letting them both in. The hallway was narrow, but from the third door on the right, that ran through another tiny hallway…

"Yes, Noa?" It was almost obscene how much Alfons had to look down to see her…he knew he was tall, but sometimes it hurt to have to crane his neck like that.

The little girl was looking down towards her feet, though…she wasn't looking at him.

"D-do you…know why he called you?"

"No." Alfons said, "That's what I'm going to see him for. To find out."

"Oh."

It was almost heartbreaking how disappointed she sounded….

"So um…" She paused. "Do you wanna know?"

"Why he called me, Noa?"

"Uh-huh."

"I don't know…would he be mad if you told me?"

"Nuh-uh. He wouldn't be mad."

"Then yes—I'd love for you to tell me."

It was always so cute how she'd furrow her eyebrows, as if deep in thought. She would put her finger in her mouth, just a bit, biting down…but not enough to hurt, or draw blood…

"Well…someone's here."

He blinked. "Someone's here?"  
"Uh-huh. A new…apprentish."

Alfons chuckled a bit. "Don't you mean, 'apprentice'?"

"That's what I said."

"But if he has a new Apprentice, why would he call me?"

Why _would_ he call him? He was the most junior apprentice, with more physical accidents then he was willing to admit to. He didn't even know his way around perfectly yet…even in _four months_. It was true that his test engines seemed to work the best out of all the others', and he knew that it irritated not just one of his colleagues, but…

"Dunno. The man went into the room, and then Herr Oberth came out and found the Dog-Man, who was around…and then he told him to go get you!"

"That's not a nice thing to call someone, Noa."

"But he is like a dog!" Noa insisted, walking faster. "He barks like one and he gets mad if I go near him…just like the dog next door."

Just like a child to interpret antisocial, grouchy behavior for being 'mad'. If one looked at it her way, then Dorrecht was mad all the time…which could almost be true, actually.

No, that probably wasn't a good way to think.

"That's just because he's grouchy."

"Well, he's nice to _you_."

"That's because he works with me…I'm sure that if we didn't work together he'd be grouchy with me, too."

"Kay."

He didn't know when he had stepped out of the last hallway and stepped into this one, or when he had even opened a door at all, for this matter, but if he took any more steps forward, he was going to smack straight into Herr Oberth's door…

God knew that he didn't want to show himself to the new Apprentice looking like _that_.

That would be the perfect way to introduce himself: "Hi, I'm Alfons Heiderich…I'm the most junior apprentice and I just slammed right through the door…I'm sorry, I swear I'm not a complete idiot."

"Well, I'll go now…" Noa backed away a few steps, smiling. "I did your fortune this morning and drew the "Wheel of Fortune"…so something important might happen. Bye!"

It was always a wonder why she clung to him so much. He was always in the workroom, fixing engines, looking over blueprints…but whenever he would step out, there she would be…babbling some nonsense about a card or another, or talking to him about God-knows-what. She was cute, and very sweet…

But he had to wonder why the girl took to him over gentle giant Law, who was practically born to be a father. Alfons was certain that the man would marry, and probably marry quickly once he got back to Germany…once he found a prospective girl, of course.

Or why she would tell his fortune every morning…even when she didn't have to.

…

"That's a story for another day, though, isn't it?"

The girl was off and quickly out of sight, and Alfons turned back towards the door, putting his hand on the handle and turning the knob…

He could hear the hum of Herr Oberth's quiet tone already, though there was another voice…though he couldn't quite make it out…

He ducked into the room, nearly slinking inside as he shut the door behind him.

"Herr Oberth, you said you wanted to see me?"

…He had not expected to hear a slight gasp as he entered the room.


	3. Coincidence, or a fated meeting?

**2**

_Gold hair, fluttering about in a loose, almost haphazard braid…black clothes, hanging off his form…a long red coat, white gloves…a short, but muscular stature…_

_One arm, one leg, made of metal…_

_Automail…_

_And a youthful, handsome face, fixed in a perpetual cocky grin…_

_But his golden eyes were shining dimly, glowed over with a sort of sadness…a regret…_

He always felt cool…numb when he dreamed; that feeling of being himself…but not. Alive, yet in many ways dead…feeling, but only esoterically…human, but inside steel…encased within a metal shell that could not eat, sleep, relieve themselves, or dream.

He wasn't exactly sure when he had started having these dreams…was he ten? Eleven? Younger than that? He couldn't even remember.

Maybe it was an aftermath of the fever…it could have been. That damn thing lasted for only an hour…but the heat and the immense physical pain was enough to send him bawling louder than he ever had, and nearly gave his poor mother and brother a panic attack.

He was also delirious…screaming…crying. Crying for someone, reaching out his hands…

But nobody understood him.

…Apparently nobody in the room knew how to speak English, save his father.

…A language Alfons had never spoken a word of in his young life.

But as quickly as it came, the fever was gone…and Alfons was well and fine…as if he had never been harmed or sick at all.

…And then the dreams began.

He wasn't sure where they had come from; they couldn't have been the dreams of a scientist…of one who respected the laws of nature, physics, and reason more than anything else. They were otherworldly—things that were told in stories and fairy tales that his mother would often tell him as a baby…things that would help little children go to sleep after a bad dream.

But some of the things he had seen that first dream made all of his worst nightmares look like piddly things…silly childish things that were nothing.

Blood…

He remembered that much about it very well.

There was blood everywhere in those first moments…

And even thereafter…

"_Auntie, Winry…Please…help him…"_

In those dreams, he was armor. A hulking suit of armor with a soul infused within the metal, with the stature of a man but the heart of an innocent child…an innocent child that liked kittens, reading, and card games…just like himself. But unlike himself, he was strong, knew how to fight, and could get himself out of trouble faster than Alfons could build a dummy engine.

An innocent child that was paying penance for a grave sin—one that was so great that it cost him his entire body, and his brother's right arm to at least bring his soul to the land of the living.

Had that been wise?

Alfons wasn't exactly the expert on 'sins' and 'forgiveness'. He ran out of Church as a child often, and felt uncomfortable near the places—and the unpleasant dream about the father who 'brought people back to life' didn't help either. Was that why the two brothers—Edward and Alphonse—committed a great sin in that dream world of his?

But that didn't explain the fever.

And the pain.

And even despite that…he hadn't done anything particularly horrible in his life. He followed the Bible as well as he could, cared for his fellow man, tried his best not to judge or discriminate (though he was human, after all…so admittedly he had failed in this attempt several times)…and he didn't have a particularly bad case of wanderlust, either. In fact, he was more of a homebody—to all who knew him, that wasn't too surprising, really…

And he must have had one hell of an imagination to think up all those landscapes and races.

And Alchemy.

Especially Alchemy.

To think of the fundaments of this strange…'science'…at that sort of level…that was truly unheard of. It was disproved by any of the modern theorem, but somehow his dreams seemed to make some sort of sense to him.

"_Alchemists…be thou for the people…what a joke that is." _

A drawn circle…a clap of hands…and a flash of light.

_"It's only a matter of time, Rose…Science will find a way. Science is the answer to everything."_

Science was the answer to everything…what a joke. All rational thought dictated that it wasn't actual science. It was a pseudo-science at best…

A pseudo-science formed under the principle of Equivalent Exchange.

Gleichwertiger Austausch.

To obtain, one must give something up of equal value…like an equation, of sorts. A-B equals B-A. Like the concept of balancing equations, that was founded in basic chemistry, or the Law of the Conservation of Mass…

A dream-science. That was all it was.

That somehow made _sense_ in his head, but at the same time made no sense at all…

It was amazing what dreams could do to mess with a normally sane mind.

But…

_"I'm not worthless!"_

_"You'll make such a great bomb, Al…"_

_"This is the least I can do…"_

_"Brother…"_

Bits and pieces…before the red light, that was the last dream he remembered. Simple pictures and sound by now…the dreams had gotten weaker….much less vivid than they once were.

How long had that been?

That must have been six months ago.

_A desert town…_

_A man with a scar on his face…_

_Strange symbols dotting the armor…_

Then the red light came…and with the searing pain, cold sweats, shakes, and vomiting, it was like he was ten all over again.

But it was like he had lost something…though he wasn't even sure what.

The dreams stopped after that…and then he grew weak. Consistent coughing, weak lungs, weak legs, weak muscles, occasionally vomiting blood…he got sickly, and would often be bedridden, despite his hardest efforts to stay on his feet.

He had to steel all of his efforts just to go out and see the professor. Coughing and sickness and weakness be damned, he had to go and that was final.

Two months later…he was in Hungary at the time, resting during his journey to go see Herr Oberth…that was the final time he felt the Pain.

It was just like the last two…only he had guests in a hotel to worry about, and with his screaming, he was sure that someone or other had tried to get him a doctor after he fainted, lying down unconscious on the floor.

…The dreams had, in the end, returned…

And his body had somehow regained its previous strength.

_"I'll work hard and then I'll bring Brother back again! Trust me!"_

The Brothers Elric of his dreams had separated.

And now…

The young man standing in the room, in front of Oberth's desk…

It was like looking at a ghost.

A ghost that he never thought he would ever see…never in person.

* * *

_**Name: Edward Elric**_

_**Age: 16**_

_**Nationality: Amestrian (Says he's American)**_

_**Occupation: Wanderer/Former State Alchemist**_

_-------_

"Oh, Alfons! Come in, come in!"

When Edward Elric had come to this world from the other side, he had thought that he would have never heard that name uttered from casual lips again. Just from the annals of a memory, or maybe dreams, haunting him until he just couldn't take it anymore.

He had certainly not expected the young 'genius' of the apprentices to share the same name…

And as he turned to him…

Certainly not the same _face_, either.

Blond hair, blue eyes…pale skin. A body that was tall, but _shouldn't_ be, dammit…soft features, not one ounce of muscle…

And a nervous smile that somehow made Edward uneasy.

The boy—Alfons—took a step forward, glancing at Ed for just a quick moment before looking at the roundish, older man sitting on the other end of the desk.

"You called me, sir?"

"Yes," Hermann Oberth was pleasant enough—one of those 'middle-aged-guy-next-door' types with a round body and a gentle smile…it almost reminded him of Sig a little…well. More fat, less muscle. No offense to the poor man, but Herr Oberth didn't look like he could lift forty pounds without wheezing. "Alfons, I'd like to introduce you…this gentleman is Edward Elric."

Why did Alfons's back suddenly stiffen?

What reason did he possibly have to seem estranged—if anything…_Edward_ should have been the one looking like that.

But he probably already did.

He had no doubt of that…

He could still feel his hands shaking.

"El…ric?" He repeated, as if he couldn't pronounce it…though even with the thick accent, Alfons managed to swallow the word perfectly.

"Yes. Mr. Elric hails all the way from America…didn't you say you were from…?"

_It's the same face. The same face…the same __**name**__. But it can't be. Al's on the other side. At least I think he is…if the transmutation worked correctly…_

"New York." Ed finished (more like _choked_, really), in his horribly accented German. "I came from New York."

Alfons looked to him, tilting his head to the side. "New York, hm?"

Those blue eyes on him were almost unnerving…

_The old man told me that this would happen…But…I didn't think I'd run into…_

"Yeah."

"So…" The man was trying his best to smile…but it was hard to look at him. Nervous, a thin smile…clenching, unclenching hands…

Alfons swallowed, and tried opening his mouth again:

"You…ist American, ja?"

…Edward tried not to cringe at the accent that hung in the young man's English.

…But Herr Oberth however did not share the same sentiment.

"Alfons, so you do speak English as well as I have heard."

Edward almost expected that Alfons would blush like he had…soft pink splashing across his cheeks. "N-no sir…not at all. I only know a little."

"You mustn't overlook your talents."

"Really sir…it isn't much…"

The same smile, the same voice…the same face and if he had gained some muscle, the same body too. There were some differences, to be sure…Alfons's face was paler and he didn't look well…but…

The similarity really was uncanny.

Sickeningly so, really…

He was sure that if Al had been able to grow up, if Al had been able to live a normal life, just like everyone else…he probably would have looked exactly the same, spare a few differences.

_Al_…

Not here. He wasn't going to think about that here.

He was on the road to getting _back_ to him…he had to focus.

But…

_"Brother…Brother…BROTHER!"_

_"AL! What the hell?!" _

_The sniffling sound should have given it away…even in the pitch blackness that had covered the room. His eleven-year-old eyes weren't on their last legs…nor were they even bad, per se…but…_

_He felt the familiar warmth crawl under the covers, settling down next to him. _

_Ed sighed. _

_"Al…can't you sleep?"_

_"N…no…" the larger (damn him) form whimpered, snuggling closer. _

_"Come on. You have to get some sleep." _

_"But Brother…"_

_"No buts. We're going to be seeing her tomorrow. Don't wanna be tired, do you?"_

_"N-no…"_

_"Then come on. Let's get some sleep."_

That was the night it all happened. Al had crawled into his bed…and then after they still didn't go to sleep…they decided…that…

"…Herr Elric?"

Shit. He wasn't paying attention.

Alfons's soft blue eyes bore into his, and Herr Oberth's calm black ones looked at him questioningly from his spot, as well.

Damn it.

"Ahhh, yeah."

"Then shall we go?" Alfons smiled a bit…though there seemed something off about it.

"Y-yeah, sure."

He really needed to start paying more attention. There was no room to start spacing out…especially now.

* * *

It was almost unnerving…the way that Edward was looking at him.

Same face. Same eyes. Same hair. Same _name_.

There had to be some sort of mistake. It couldn't be right.

But still…

_"If you could, try to show him how things go for the first few days…your room is also empty…is it all right if he takes the extra bed in there, as well?" _

_Alfons blinked…tried his best to smile, really. "Of course. I'd be delighted."_

Rooming with him.

It was just too strange.

Didn't this just seem too convenient? He looked the same, was just as standoffish, had the same name, had a similar accent, even…

No, no.

Things like that just didn't happen. Alfons was a man of science, after all, and things like this just didn't happen, no matter how many wackos or crazies claimed that things like this happened daily, and all the time…that aliens poked at your door and that demons abducted your children, sending them into hellfire. Herr Oberth was just introducing a new apprentice from New York, and he was just to stay with him, because of his (limited) English knowledge. That was _all_.

_I wonder if he has false limbs too_.

That was a silly thing to think. He couldn't have false limbs. He wasn't the same _person_. The moment he figured that out, and just dealt with it, the day things grew easier and he didn't have to worry about such unscientific things anymore.

That was all.

They weren't the same person.

They couldn't be.

"Herr…Elric?" Alfons swallowed.

He must have caught him mid-glance, or in thought because the man suddenly stopped, snapping his head and looking at him.

"Call me Ed." He grumbled in barely passable German.

"Ja, Edward is good." …His English was probably not that passable either, come to think of it. He may have been the only one there who could speak passable English, but…

"Hmph."

He had to think of some sort of conversation. "We're…about to arrive…in…Workroom."

"Workroom?"

"Y-yes…" Alfons knew he wasn't getting anywhere with his English, damn it. He had to learn more… "This where…engines…assembled."

"_I can speak German too, you know._"

…he could speak it, but the accent was horrible enough for Alfons to just start crying. He was hardly able to understand it, as it was…

"Ja, but English easier?"

Edward shook his head…

Though why was he trying to avoid eye contact?

"Look. I'll speak in English, you speak in German. It's easier for the both of us."

"But I want learn." Alfons retorted stubbornly.

He let out a sigh. "Whatever."

_"Brother, you're so unmanageable!!" _

_"Who the hell's unmanageable, Al?! The bastard called me short!" _

_"But you didn't have to break the __**table**__!"_

Unmanageable, huh?

Even if he wasn't the same person…

Alfons Heiderich had a feeling that this Edward Elric was going to be just like the one who had once resided in his dreams.


	4. Dreaming of You

**3**

**Resembool, 1924**

-----

_**Name: Alphonse Elric**_

_**Age: Appears 10, but is really 14.**_

_**Nationality: Amestrian**_

_**Occupation: None**_

-----

Every morning, the view outside his window looked the same.

Blue skies, rolling clouds…there were some nice green grasses and some hills out there too, with some flowers dotting the landscape. It wasn't the view from _his_ old window…but it was a familiar view just the same…the view from the Rockbells' guest room that he had slept in so many times when he was younger.

It was peaceful…beautiful.

In a way…it was like that other place that he would see in his dreams.

His dreams, huh?

He was him…maybe.

He thought he was…though he was older, and he was much much taller. Tall as an adult, but thin and skinny…with washed-out blond hair and blue eyes. If Winry was a boy, and older…would she have looked like him? Well, with his own face, maybe.

There was no such thing as Alchemy in his dreams. Machinery, and lots of it—Winry would have had a ball there. 'He' would always be drawing these strange blueprints, making designs and plans to build flying machines that flew into space.

_"Hey Alfons, what're you looking at?" _

_The taller man was familiar…short blond hair, tufted out in the front but neatly cut in the back…he was chewing on something…something that looked like a cigarette, though it wasn't even lit. He must have been at least five years older than 'him', though…_

_"Oh! Well, ah…nothing much, really…Just review…This is an equation detailing the conservation of momentum in a moving object." _

_"The what?" _

_'He' had blushed a bit. He had always, always blushed. It was often said that his face would work itself into a permanent one if he kept being so embarrassed all the time. "The Conservation of Momentum. See, look…" _

_He scribbled some words on the paper in front of him—the equation looked similar to something he would have done while performing Alchemy:_

_"See? "p" stands for the fluid density, and D/DT is the substantive derivative…also called the material derivative…"_

_The taller man's eyes almost widened a bit, but he waved him off, shaking his head. _

_"Sorry, this is just way too much for me, Alfons. I'll just stick to what I know and let you revolutionize the world of science, all right? Besides, dinner's ready. You scientist types are always skipping meals—it'll put a guy like me out of work, even if I am just the hired help."_

_"Though you don't have much work to do anyway, do you Mr. Havoc?" 'He' blinked, almost laughing past his blush. "You help Frau Oberth cook, but…"_

_"I'm more of a butler than a cook, actually. I was a cook too back in the military, so I'm used to this sort of work."_

_"You don't mind? Coming all the way down here for work, even though work is scarce?"_

_All he got was a grin. "Hey, I'm just happy I got the job. For a foriegner like me, I'm lucky if I'd even get to clean the sticky mess left over in brothels. And let me tell you, Alfons…"_

_"H-hey!" _

_"Whoops, sorry kid. Forgot that you're not into that sort of thing."_

_"A-ah…" _

The insides were made of books, libraries and strange blueprints that lined the tables. And engines that several men worked on as a team, competing.

He and his brother used to do that too…though they competed in other ways, to be sure.

Al's heart felt a bit of a twinge.

'He' had lost his brother too…he had talked about it once, though it was to himself…and not out loud really.

He wondered if his brother looked anything like _his_ brother?

They had similarities, but they also had differences too. Winry had said that he would get his memories back of that time eventually…in dreams or otherwise.

But these didn't seem like memories.

These weren't _his_ memories at all. Amestris ran on Alchemy, and Physics took a heavy backseat. Sure, there was the basic physics…Conservation of Mass, Conservation of Energy…any Alchemist worth his salt knew these things and more—but then it went to the simple level and beyond…much further than what was commonly studied in Amestris.

Fluid mechanics…burst engines…the whirring of bearings, and the scent of machine oil. He wasn't even there, but he could smell it—he could feel the grease on his hands, though they weren't his hands; he could smell dinner, even though he wasn't the one smelling it; he could hear the engines scream in the testing room, though his ears weren't the ones straining against the sound.

These weren't memories. They couldn't have been.

These sorts of things didn't even _exist_ where he was from.

But…

_"You called me, sir?"_

_There was a young man standing in front of the desk…his back was turned to him, long golden hair spilling down over his shoulders in a high ponytail. _

_He was short—well, shorter than him, anyway…his brown coat was nice and thick and long…it must have been made from a soft material too, though he wasn't sure if he himself would have had the courage to go and touch it, and there were white gloves on his hands…_

_Al felt a sort of jump in 'his' chest. Almost a bit of a nostalgic twang…an anxiety. _

_"Yes. Alfons…let me introduce you…" _

_The young man at the desk had only started to turn around…gold eyes only starting to show, and that achingly familiar face coming into view—_

Al had woken up crying. His cheeks were wet, and he knew that his pillow had to have been stained from some of it.

What an imagination he had.

He not only thought up a world that didn't exist, with that older him and those amazing machines…

But now his own brother appeared in them, too.

* * *

Getting out of bed used to be such a chore for Al—when he had first come to.

One moment he was in his basement with his brother, and the next he was in another place entirely—an amphitheater, maybe. It was cold, and for some reason he wasn't wearing anything. Just lying there naked and alone on a tile floor, until a pretty young woman named Rose found him, wrapping him in some shoddy old rags she got from God-knows-where before taking him home.

Carrying, more like. He couldn't walk, could hardly speak. Nothing but squeaks and strange mumbles, anyway…his arms were barely moving though his fingers and toes would wiggle when he wanted them to.

He wished she didn't have to carry him all the way to Central Station, and then from Resembool station to the Rockbells'.

It was embarrassing.

And having Winry (older, taller, and _prettier_ Winry) see him like that was even worse.

But there was nothing he could do.

…It had been four months since then.

_Four months,_ Alphonse Elric thought, trying to pull himself up off the bedroom floor, _and I still trip and fall off the bed every morning. _

At least he could get up afterwards—that was the important thing. Falling down was embarrassing in itself, but if he had to rely on someone else to keep lifting him up and carrying him again, he wasn't quite sure what he would do.

Though he did trip enough as it was.

Stupid legs.

If he walked out of the room and tripped on that same crack, and Winry saw hi—

Wait.

Winry wasn't there today. She had said yesterday that she and Granny had to leave early…something about a shipment-or-other, and that they would be back by noon at the very least.

That left him alone again.

Well. Not _alone_…

Den was probably sleeping downstairs.

But that still meant that the house would be silent.

Al made it to his feet, wobbling a bit on clumsy legs as he walked towards the door, swinging it open.

With the way the sun was shining, it had to have been eight in the morning at the very most.

…It was far too quiet.

No talking, no walking…no sounds of stepping feet.

Al purposely made his steps louder, nearly stomping towards the stairs—

As funny as that looked with him weaving around like he did.

Like he was drunk…but he was too young to drink.

_"C'mon Al! We're just going to sneak a little!" _

_"Brother, you know that we can't! We're too young to drink alcohol!"_

_"Teacher's not even going to notice—you know how she gets when you give her booze—come on!"_

…That day, Ed had snuck two drinks and gotten horribly drunk…Al had managed to get his brother out of the attack radius before Izumi found out, but…

…Brother.

Why had he disappeared? Where _was_ he?

It didn't make any sense.

Winry hadn't told him much…though with the rueful glances towards the old pictures…the pieces were starting to piece together, if not a little.

She had said that he had lost his memories of a time of great hardship…when he and his brother were on a journey to find something that no human could reach. Rose had said that they went on a "Pilgrimage" to pay penance and somehow right whatever wrong that they had done.

Attempting their mother's resurrection, he was sure.

And whenever he had asked about the huge suit of armor(it was in the study back home, he was sure of it—he didn't remember much, but the few fuzzy memories he had showed that thing at least) in some of the pictures, nobody had really said anything. Ed was in the pictures—but he was nowhere to be found. Just that armor.

And they had said that he was supposed to be fourteen years old now.

Then why did he look exactly the same as he did…

It didn't make any sense.

He remembered being grabbed by those things that night, and then being pulled into the darkness.

And then…the story speaks for itself.

Lost years, lost memories, the armor that seemed to stand in for himself, his brother's sudden disappearance.

The dreams.

Four months and nothing to show for it, too.

His brother was still gone…

He wasn't getting any closer to finding out the truth behind any of _this_…

And the dreams certainly weren't helping, either.

And then, with last night…

He wasn't sure if he was going to get any rest, awake _or_ asleep.

* * *

**Transylvania, 1921**

-----

"…Alfons!"

"Mmnnh…_ja_?"

The workroom…wait. A desk?

He was asleep?

_How long had I been out? I didn't even notice falling asleep…_

One moment, he had been in the workroom, talking to Dorrecht about some design flaw or another, Edward off doing God-knows-what after blowing up at Law (In his poor German, of course) about how the engine design wasn't going to work with the energy output—though admittedly, Edward's arguments were plausible, and denying Alfons's frantic offer to translate with a loud English "Butt the hell out", he made a situation go from bad to worse in a span of ten seconds.

Law had nearly exploded, and Edward _did_ explode, storming off out of the workroom and slamming the door behind him.

Alfons didn't know whether or not to go after the man, or to stay behind…

Even though he hadn't known Edward long, he was already proving to be a handful.

_Scheisse. _

Bleary blue eyes blinked open, fuzzy vision becoming clear again into an empty room, chairs pulled in and materials strewn around. The engines were off, the lights were low…

Nighttime?

Oh God, how long _was_ he sleeping?

"Alfons? Are you okay? You were sleeping for a reeeally long time."

Brown eyes were there, blinking at him.

Noa?

Alfons sat up fully, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Noa…sweetie, what did I tell you about coming into the workroom?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay…I just don't want you to get hurt, that's all…"

"I won't get hurt—nobody's here! And I'm not going to touch the engins or anything."

"You mean 'engines'?" Alfons asked with a chuckle.

"That's what I said!" Noa puffed out her cheeks, pouting. "And besides, it's not nice to tell Mr. Edward that you're going to do one thing and not do it!"

_Mr. Edward?_

Alfons blinked—and not just once, either.

_Edward_ asked her to come get him?

"Mr. Edward asked you?" Alfons asked.

Noa nodded. "Uh-huh. He said he can't find his room without you, and since you live together he doesn't want to go to the wrong area, you know? This house is really big."

So that was it. Without him, Edward was lost—it was understandable, really. After his earlier display, it was a wonder that Edward wanted to get along with anyone at all…let alone room with anybody. But when one had no choice, they had no choice, perhaps. Pride would get pushed to the curb and then slight humility would follow.

Just like him.

…Someone who didn't _exist,_ dammit.

_But in those dreams, Al dreamed…_

Dreams were only the mind's way of releasing what it was that it had dealt with, seen, and experienced in a single day. The sooner he would realize that, the sooner he would be done with these silly…

"Just be nice to Mr. Edward, okay?" Noa shifted a bit where she stood, her purple skirt swaying around her ankles. "He's lonely away from home."

_Lonely away from home._

No, no, no, no…he's just away from his home country. He had said he was from America…right?

Alfons couldn't help but smile a little.

"Of course, Noa. I'll do my best."


	5. Speaking Without Opening Your Mouth

**4**

Transylvania, 1921—five hours before Alfons woke up 

---

Name: Noa 

_**Age: 4 **_

_**Nationality: Thought to be of Tribal, or Gypsy descent**_

_**Occupation: None**_

---

She didn't remember much. Not before the 'explosions' came.

A smile here…

A gentle pat on the head there…

A set of cards…the same that she has now…being lied out on a table…

Laughter…

A group of dark-skinned people congregating amongst themselves in a language she couldn't quite remember.

It was all so fuzzy—she wasn't exactly sure who all of them were, and none of them ever had faces.

Faceless people, though somehow she knew that they were smiling, or talking gently to her.

…They always spoke to her in her dreams, anyway…but she never knew what they were saying.

All she remembered was the loud noises…hiding in a box in the back of the truck, heat…

Screaming.

And then, that was when Frau Oberth found her.

_"You poor thing—are you all right?"_

_Noa stared up, wide-eyed, unsure of what to say…unsure of what to do…she just stood there, frozen…_

_"Come on—you can't just stand there looking like that…you at least need to eat something, dear." _

_Noa nodded dumbly._

It had been a year since then, hadn't it? Maybe two. Noa couldn't remember. She didn't keep much track of time, really—everything either went too slow or too quickly, but taking things as they went didn't work either. It didn't seem to give her any sort of solace, anyway.

She wasn't sure how she managed for a while.

"But that was then, and this is now," as Alfons would always say.

Had he only been there for four months? It was almost like Noa had known him forever. It was strange to think about waking up and not seeing him at breakfast, sneaking her an extra piece of sausage under the table, at which time she'd tuck it in her skirt pocket until she was safely away—where she could enjoy it by herself without anyone noticing.

Or even during the day, scolding her gently for running in the hallways or for going into the workroom when everyone was busy. Or just being in the workroom at all, though it _was_ a dangerous place.

…

Come to think of it…

She never really talked to anyone else.

Not out of the apprentices, anyway…She wasn't called "Silent Noa" by a lot of them for nothing.

But the really big guy scared her, and the dog-man was mean…and everyone else sort of shooed her away.

But…

_Alfons knelt down, smiling, looking the girl in the eyes. He was always so tall, but nobody had ever knelt down to her height before…not anyone besides Mr. Havoc and Frau Oberth, anyway. And he was so young, too._

_"Are you okay?" He always spoke in such a quiet, soft tone. _

_Noa nodded. She could feel her face grow a bit hot. _

_"Are you lost?"_

_Noa shook her head. _

_"I'm…" She paused, swallowing hard, thinking of what to say. "…lonely." _

_"Oh, I'm sorry…" A pat on the head…Mr. Havoc gave her those all the time, though since he was always busy they didn't talk much…_

_"It's okay." Noa whispered, shuffling her feet. "Everyone is really busy…" _

_"Well, I'm not busy right now…and I'm a bit lost, myself. Do you know where you can find the dormitories?"_

_"Uh-huh. My room is by there." She wondered where the confidence had come from—how she could just talk to a stranger without even knowing their name. "The dormitories and the workroom were added a while ago, you know. Herr Oberth had apprentishes, so he had to have places for them to sleep. This used to be such a smaaaall house, but then they decided to make it so much bigger." _

_He had laughed…he had such a nice, shy laugh. "I see. Do you think you could take me there then? If it isn't much trouble." _

_"It's not a problem." She shuffled her feet again. Where had that courage gone? "Um…I'm Noa." _

_"Noa…that's a pretty name." _

_"Thanks…Frau Oberth says it's pretty, too." She paused, shuffling her feet even more. "What's your name?" _

_"I'm Alfons. Alfons Heiderich."_

Alfons was really nice.

He was going to have to leave someday though…everyone was going to have to. Back to wherever they came from (Alfons was from Germany, he said).

But he was here now, wasn't he?

She didn't want him to leave.

…

She first saw the golden-haired man when he burst out of the workroom in a blur, storming down the hall on clunky boots, making a loud enough noise to make Noa jump, running behind a nearby stack of boxes.

"Fucking assholes…shit, what was I thinking…what the fuck…goddamn idiots—they're not doing it right, but fuck, they won't listen to me…"

Noa didn't know much English…the only little bit she knew was from Alfons, and he hadn't taught her much…but a couple of the words she had heard Alfons say when he was mad, though he had told her never to say them, and that they were bad words…

So that meant that this man was doing a bad thing.

But it wasn't good to tell on adults.

He had stomped down the hall a bit before throwing the door open, his gait going a bit back to normal before stepping in the doorway, slamming it shut behind him.

Noa flinched, and felt herself cling tighter to the boxes.

That man…

That was the new apprentice, right?

He was scary…

---

**Transylvania, 1921—Two hours before Alfons woke up**

---

"Noa, could you please be a dear and get out of the kitchen? We have some things to do, and I don't want you to get hurt."

She had always liked the kitchen though—liked the smells and sounds of bubbling sauces, baking meats and simmering soups. The sight and sound of food always made her mouth water, and even if she couldn't eat it…

But the adults didn't like her hanging around there. Even when she was quiet, and she didn't move from her usual perch, the two worried…as if she was going to get hurt when they prepared food on the other end of the room.

She was little though, so she understood. Alfons didn't want her in the workroom because he didn't want her hurt, and Frau Oberth didn't want her in the kitchen too much because _she_ didn't want her hurt.

But it was annoying. She was four-and-a-half; she wasn't a baby anymore!

She could easily take care of herself—but nobody seemed to agree with her.

But it would be immature to get angry over something so stupid. The Dog-Man got angry about things like this, and there was no way that she was going to turn out like _him._

So, sighing, Noa left, pattering her feet out the kitchen door and peeking into the hallway.

_Thump_.

"FUCK! Where the hell am I?"

Noa's body stiffened, and she had half the mind to just run back into the kitchen where it was safe—where that scary golden-haired man from three hours ago couldn't see her.

There was another box nearby!

Her tiny body moved quickly, ducking behind it and peeking out…this was such a good hiding spot! He would never notice her!

"Damn it…"

He was saying bad words to himself again! She should tell!

"Damn it—how the hell am I going to get anything done if all they're doing is fucking wasting time? Goddamn it—I'm lost."

Lost?

She understood that word.

Noa clung to the box still, brown eyes blinking as she stared up.

He was lost?

_"…I'm a bit lost, myself."_

Alfons was lost on his first day, too.

"Al…"

Al? Who was Al?

"Dammit…"

…That was a bad word.

He banged his fist against the wall and then turned around, leaning his back against it and sliding down to the floor. He looked dazed…out of it. Like he was deep in thought.

He almost looked…

_He looks so sad._

_**Al…damn it, how long is it going to take before I get home? I'm stuck here…nothing's getting done. These morons said they've been here for months, but they act like they haven't studied an engine in their entire fucking life. **_

Noa felt her body stiffen again, despite itself.

She could hear it again.

When people were talking without opening their mouths.

She didn't know whether or not to be scared of it. Sometimes it would be quiet…sometimes it would just be one person talking at once, and it would be loud, clear, and easy to understand. They would say things that she didn't understand…or things that they didn't want to tell anybody. But still they would tell her somehow, and she would hear them.

But then there were other times…when everyone talked at once. It was jumbled and hard to hear, and it made her head hurt. She had told Alfons about it once…though he didn't seem to understand. He said it was something like 'body language', and that she could tell what a person was thinking by how they were sitting and how it was important to know that for when she got older, and how she was very 'special' for being 'perceptive'.

…What did 'perceptive' mean?

_**And then there's that guy, Alfons. That irritating…He looks just like you, Al. Acts like you. It's damned hard to look at him, 'cause it makes me miss home even more—I don't belong here. This isn't home. It's a fucking nightmare. **_

Alfons was irritating? He looked like this 'Al' person?

She didn't understand.

Noa felt a bit of a pang in her chest, looking at him. His eyes were closed now, and he didn't look as scary as he did before. He was angry, but his non-talking-talking voice was sad. Maybe that sort of angry-sad that Alfons felt when he talked about his home. About that big war that nobody would really talk about to her…said it was grownup stuff.

But it wasn't any fun to be homesick.

Cautiously, she stepped out from behind the box, swallowing hard.

Nobody liked being sad.

And…

_**Shit, I wouldn't even care if I had to listen to Colonel Shit's pompous lecturing, or get hit in the face with Winry's wrench a hundred times over, Al. Just if I could get home, and see everyone again. Maybe get a house in Resembool, or even get my old job back, traveling the world. I wouldn't care, so long as I was home. **_

Noa took a few tottering steps forward…

_**Wonder if the Colonel actually managed to beat the Fuhrer? Wouldn't doubt it. Men like him don't just lie down and die…**_

A few more steps…

_**But I wonder how **_**you're**_** doing, little brother?**_

Noa stopped in front of him, hands clasped tight behind her back.

"Um…Um…Mister?"  
The man opened his eyes, alarmed.

Noa's grip tightened, and she shuffled her feet.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

"C-Can I…Can I…um…"

She swallowed hard.

"S-Sit with you?"

* * *

She must have been staring at him for about two to three minutes. Not that Edward was counting, but it was hard not to notice the passage of time with the way her expressions seemed to change.

Anxiety, then fear, then anxiety again, then fear again…

If he was home, he would have made the assumption that she was from Lior, or Ishbal. Her skin was dark, and her eyes were a deep shade of brown. Her hair was the same color, too… with a pair of short braids that hung down in the front, while the rest flowed out loose down her back.

_She looks like Rose, a little._

"Um…I'm…" Her German even had an accent, if not a small one. "I'm…sorry."

Her eyes lowered, and she kicked her feet.

"It's just…um…I d-didn't mean to bother you…um…I'll go…"

Well, shit. This was going well. His first day and he had pissed off his colleagues, met a guy who looked just like his _baby brother_, and now he was about to hurt the feelings of a little girl who had nothing to do with either issue.

He sighed.

"It's fine." He had to stop himself before he said it in English—there was no way she would have understood him if he spoke in it, anyway.

Her eyes glanced up a little.

"It is?" she asked.

"…didn't I say that it was?"

"Uh…uh-huh. S-sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."

"O-okay…"

He closed his eyes, but he could hear the pit-patter of little feet as the girl moved towards him, and he could feel the warmth on his flesh arm when her shoulder brushed it.

"This okay?" she asked.

"S'fine." Ed grumbled.

They stayed that way…

* * *

**Transylvania, 1921—Thirty minutes before Alfons woke up**

---

Noa wasn't sure when she fell asleep or when she woke up—or if she even fell asleep at all, but was rather dazing out, but the next thing she noticed was a full tray of food at her feet, a full tray for food at the man's feet, and the distinct sound of soft breathing in the air.

She turned her head a little…

He was asleep?

His eyes were closed, and he was breathing evenly…though his face was fixed in a weird expression…something that was like frowning but not quite.

"Um…" she swallowed. "Um…Mister…"

No response.

She swallowed harder. "Mister…"

Nothing.

She reached out a tiny hand, shaking him.

"Miste…"

_**Blood. **_

_**Spattered on the floors…**_

_**On the walls…**_

_**A circle, on the floor, glowing…**_

_**A young boy…**_

_**Red face, wet skin, bleeding…**_

_**Something was sticking out of his abdomen…something bulging…shining…**_

_**His face looked almost just like Alfons's…**_

_**Crying…**_

_**"Brother…" **_

…Noa was wailing before she even took her hand away.

* * *

The sound of a child crying had sent him out of his uneasy slumber (_How long had I been out?_), causing Edward's eyes to fly open, the expected scream of "WHAT THE FUCK?!" coming out of his lips in English as he lurched forward a bit.

The screaming was coming from beside him…

And lo and behold, the same girl from…well, however-long-it-was ago was still sitting next to him, and now she was _crying_.

"What the—what's wrong?!"

_Shit, shit, shit, I didn't do anything, dammit!!! _

"B-B-B…"

She sniffled once.

Twice.

Then hiccupped, and tried speaking again:

"I-I..s-scared…"

_"I'm scared, Brother…" _

_"It's okay, Al. It was just a bad dream." _

What the hell was he supposed to do?! Crying child…

Why wasn't anyone coming out or hearing this?!

He didn't know what to do. What could he do? He didn't know this kid…and for all he knew, _he_ was the one who made her cry. And besides, one didn't just…

_Oh to hell with it._

A shaky arm wrapped itself around her shoulders—the flesh one, always the flesh one—though the grip was loose, and his hand didn't rest on anything…rather just hung there.

"Hey, hey…it's okay. Quit crying."

He had tried his best to be gentle…he tried to keep the shaking out of his voice though he wasn't sure how well he did. Or if she even understood him with his horribly-pronounced German. Her face was covered in her hands, and she was trembling…

She hiccupped once.

Twice.

Three times.

"It's okay…" _Damn it, where's Winry when you fucking need her? I don't know what I'm doing! _"Shhh…it's okay."

* * *

Noa didn't see the blood again when he wrapped his arm around her. She heard lots of things…but she didn't see anything. It was all jumbled up—words and phrases mingling in with each other that she didn't quite understand…

But even so…

He was _warm_.

Like Alfons, though Alfons gave better hugs, to be sure. But his side was nice and hard…and warm…and Noa found herself snuggling into it.

He had a strange smell, too…like rubber, oil, and dirt.

Her sobs started to slow…almost to a stop.

The tears stopped running from her eyes.

"Thank you." Noa hiccupped, nuzzling the man's side. "I feel better now."

_**Thank God—I thought I was going to have a heart attack!**_

"Are you okay, Mister?"

The man swallowed, turning his head away.

His cheeks were red?

"Yeah…I'm fine."

"You don't _look_ fine." Noa said.

"Then what do I look to you?"

"Sad."

"Sad, huh?"

_**That's an understatement, kid.**_

"Uh-huh." Noa snuggled a bit more into that warmth. "Are you one of the apprentishes?"

"The what?"

"The apprentishes." Noa repeated.

"You mean _apprentices_."

"That's what I said!"

He let out a sigh. "Yeah…I am one."

_His accent sounds funny._

"What's your name?" Noa asked. "I'm Noa!"

"Noa, huh?"

She nodded. "Yep!"

"I'm…" another sigh. "Edward."

"Edward? That's a funny name." A pause. "Are you a friend of Alfons's?"

_**…No.**_

"Sort of. We work together."

"Alfons is really really nice. He plays with me, and he talks with me when he's not working. If you're sad, then you should talk to him. He'll help cheer you up! At least, that's what he always says to me. 'Noa, if you ever have a problem, then come to me, and I'll help you as much as I can.' I'm sure if you talked to him, he'd say the same to you, Mr. Edward!"

_**Great. Not only does this guy look like my baby brother, but he's also a regular fucking Pollyanna. **_

"Yeah…well…speaking of Alfons…"

"Do you want me to find him for you? Um…um, I shouldn't have spied earlier, but I did, and um, I heard that you were lost. I helped Alfons on his first time here because _he_ was lost too, but he'd be willing to help."

"Ah…"

_I'll go find him!_

She didn't want to have to leave the warmth. Or that smell…

But she stood.

"It's okay! I'll go find him for you! Make sure you wait here, okay Mister Edward?"

Making sure not to step on the food (_I'll eat that later…once I find Alfons. He'll get mad at me if he finds out that I didn't eat again!_), Noa took a few running steps forward…

_Wait. _

She stopped, spinning around.

"And Mister Edward? I'm sure you'll be able to go home to that…Resemburgh place eventually. Don't give up!"

_**Wait, what?!**_

He might have wanted to say something in return, but Noa had already dashed out of the hallway, going towards the workroom.

* * *

**Transylvania, 1921—Fifteen minutes after Alfons woke up**

---

"Edward—is everything all right?"

Alfons had ushered Noa to bed when she had found him (_"Noa, little girls shouldn't be staying up late. You know it's not healthy for you to not get enough sleep…"_), though looking at Edward now, maybe it would have been a good idea to take her along with him…maybe to ease the tension, a bit.

The man was leaning against the side of the wall, knees up and staring upward…long ponytail spilling out over his shoulders. It was hard to see in the dim half-lights that lit the hall, but the sight was almost too-clear to him.

Clear enough to feel nostalgia that he shouldn't have been feeling.

Dreams and reality were two different things, dammit.

Then he looked over…just a bit.

And then…

Smoky gold eyes met his.

**Thump.**

_What the…why am I so nervous?_

Alfons glanced away, slightly off to the side. That floorboard looked pretty interesting…a bit shiny, the finish almost glowing in the light…

This was ridiculous. He had no reason to be nervous…but why was he suddenly jittering like this?

"S'fine."

The rustle of clothes; Edward was most likely standing.

"D-did you want to know where the dormitories were? It is pretty late."

Another rustle; a shrug. "Sure, I guess. Doesn't really matter to me. I'm rooming with you anyway, right?"

"Yeah."

Wait.

Rooming…

Herr Oberth had said that they were to stay in the same room. To sleep together, like many other apprentices did, with the set of beds and…

Wait.

_Oh Lord…_

Alfons swallowed hard.

He had almost forgotten…

In his room…

There was only one bed.


	6. Is it a Coincidence? Is it Reality?

**5**

---

**Resembool, 1924**

---

"Winry?"

"Mmm?"

Alphonse Elric looked down towards the table top, balling his hands in fists on his legs. It was hard to say what had driven this conversation; most breakfasts were silent, almost somber…Winry would quickly eat her breakfast and totter off to whatever assignment she was supposed to do for the day, and Granny had always eaten long before the two had even sat down to table. Den would leave…

The silence would fill Alphonse with a small numbness, but a numbness that came with familiarity and tradition. Habits.

Habits that he knew he could break, if he really tried to break them.

Break the dark monotony that made up this house and this family.

He smiled…or rather, tried to smile.

"It's nothing, Winry. Don't worry about it." Looking for conversation among the silence, bringing up his deeper worries but not willing to address them at all. What a coward he was. "I was just wondering about somethi"

"About Ed, right?" She took a quick bite of her food, not even bothering to look at him.

…

A sigh.

"Yeah…"

A pause.

"I'm sure…"

He couldn't see her face…but he knew that she didn't have that usual pleasant expression of hers…that smile that he used to see over and over and over again, daily, again and again, as if there was no one else in the world and she was throwing it just for him. She never smiled these days—not since he woke up, and not since his brother left.

She never gave him any real ones, anyway…She would leave those large grins and half-smiles, but they were always empty…accompanied with pained eyes and a soft voice, with carefully chosen words as if Al was this invalid who had to have everything kept from him in order for him to be happy.

He couldn't stand it.

It was like when his brother left…

He took everyone's happiness with him.

Just like that.

It was as if nobody else mattered, nothing else mattered than the one who had left, and the rest of the world was left behind to turn only very slowly as it was out of the orbit of a certain Edward Elric. Wherever he was…if he was anywhere at all, and if these dreams of his were even real and not fabricated ideas or hopes or half-truths that his mind had created in order to cope with the loss.

He had seen his brother in those dreams. He had seen him clearly. Face, hair, eyes—all of it. Could hear his voice, could smell his scent…

But why was he all the way over there?

Why wasn't he here?

Didn't he see how much everyone else was suffering? Waiting in the house for him…just like…

_Just like Mom and us used to wait for Daddy, Brother. You said you wouldn't be like him…Always, always said that, Brother…that you'd never leave me and Winry alone, and that everything would be okay. That's what you __**said**__, Brother!_

Al swallowed.

"You're sure…?"

_Say something. Anything. Anything at all…_

"I'm sure that Ed's all right somewhere…he's just…he's just wandering around, trying to find his way home to you, Al."

"And to you too, Winry."

Another sigh.

"Yeah…and me too…I guess."

She 'guessed'? That didn't make sense. Winry was just as much a part of their family as they were of hers. They always told her everything…well, except the resurrecting their mother part, but…

Was there something else that they hid from her?

What had happened during those 'lost years' of his?

"Don't say that, Winry! I'm sure he'll come home to you, too! And then…"

"I don't really think it's that simple, Al…" 

Her voice was so sad…low, but sad…it was almost like she was trying not to cry…

His heart wrenched. This wasn't the Winry he knew at all. Either that, or she had her soul ripped out of her body by some outside force, and nothing else really was right in her life anymore.

She looked so _lost_.

"Winry, I

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

"**Alphonse!**"

There were things that Alfons Heiderich had thought to wake up from in the middle of the night, right when he had finally gotten into a comfortable sleeping position after Edward the _ever-so-charitable_ had hogged the blankets and all the pillows, leaving him one cold spot on the side of the mattress for his much too-tall body to curl up and try to balance on…

Maybe dreams.

Maybe a random chill, namely from the fact that he had no blanket and couldn't possibly be warm with the lack of _something_ covering him…

But no.

A scream and a sudden pain on his face shot him up with a surprised cry, sending him tumbling off the bed and crashing down to the floor in a pale, blond heap. He was surprised that he didn't break something—or rather, that the floor didn't collapse under his weight, or the splinters of the floorboards didn't get into his skin. It was common knowledge to wear shoes when wandering the bedrooms for this reason, but…

"Agh…uh…"

_What the…_

Shuffling.

The bed was shuffling, practically moving along on the floor, as Alfons tried to push himself up to his feet.

What the hell _was_ that? It was like a train had suddenly come through his window, whacked him in the face, and then disappeared, never to be seen again with any evidence of it actually being there. He was lucky that his damn nose wasn't broken.

"Al…"

Alfons blinked, keeping his grip on the headboard of the bed as he looked over at the other occupant who laid there, twisting and turning under the confiscated blankets and sheets.

When had his hair fallen out of its ponytail? It was falling down, stuck to his shoulders and neck, which were both damp with sweat, soaking through the white shirt he wore…and probably his sleep pants, too. He was sprawled out, twisting and turning, and twisting again. It was almost like a long, drawn out, agonizing dance.

"Al…"

Al?

Alfons blinked again, but made no effort to move. Instead he stared down at the young man in the bed.

Al.

_Al_.

No. That was a coincidence. It had to be.

He swallowed hard.

"H-Herr Edward…" he mumbled. He reached out his hand, but then retracted it, sighing. "H-Herr Edward…w-wake up…"

A choke…

A sob?

"Al…I'm so sorry…"

Al?

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry, Al…"

He huddled more into himself…the tears and the sobbing became louder…more audible to his ears despite the pounding of his blood that seemed to overwhelm any other sound he could have heard.

_"Al…I've been wanting to ask you this for a long time, but…I dunno…I'm just…afraid of what you're gonna say if I ask you, I guess…"_

_"What is it, Brother?"_

_Edward looked down towards his feet, fist clenching as it rested on his leg…_

_"Dammit, I…_

It couldn't be. It just couldn't be.

"Al…"

Alfons could see him shivering under the blanket. Shaking…almost like a leaf, sitting on a tree amongst a quiet breeze. He was almost completely covered, but…he could still see enough. He could still see the flush in the man's cheeks, and his gold eyes tightly shut, almost painfully so…

He reached his hand out again.

Edward rolled over suddenly, leg flying in the air, blanket riding up.

Riding up…

_"Hey ah…could you get out of the room a sec? I don't want another guy seeing me naked." _

Edward had said that, and then when he had called Alfons back in, he had already taken up the blankets and pillows and huddled under the blankets…almost like a shield.

But…

Something was shining in the dark.

Alfons leaned forward.

It was around where the knee should have been…

Metallic?

No, he had to have been imagining things…

Legs didn't randomly have metal on them. Even with today's prosthetics, they were immobile, and the way Edward moved there was no way he could have been a cripple…

…right?

But…

He shuffled forward, reaching a hand out…

_Poke_.

…Edward didn't seem to notice.

_Poke_.

…Wait.

Was that _rubber_?

…No that couldn't have been rubber. Skin wasn't rubber. That just didn't happen…

It just didn't…

…

"Ughhhhh….."

Edward started to shift, and shuffle a bit in the bed.

_Scheisse! Ah, I wasn't doing anything! A-Anything at all!!!_

Three steps back, feet tripping amongst themselves as his body fell backwards, hitting the floor with a hard thud as the blob on the bed started to move a bit more again…

Was he safe?

Alfons moved back up to his feet…

"A-aaahh…"

He blinked.

"W-Winry…n-no wrench…Dint…break my automail this time…"

Hearing those words made Alfons Heiderich fall back down on the floor again…

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

…He had dreamed about home again.

That wasn't much of a surprise really. Ever since Edward Elric ended up in this…this hauntingly familiar place on the other side of home, he had dreamed about it every single night. Like an unending mantra, a broken record that kept repeating itself, or a two minute movie on unending loop…Sometimes in images, sometimes in long drawn-out memories, thoughts of what could have been…

Sometimes in nightmares.

Usually in nightmares.

If he didn't have those occasional good dreams in between the nightmares, then he would have said 'always', but that just wasn't the case.

Sometimes he dreamed of Winry…other times he dreamed of Al. He even had a dream of playing with Den once—playing in the yard of the Rockbell house with her like he was six years old again, for fuck's sake.

Other times of Mustang…

He had even had a dream about Lieutenant Hawkeye and Sheska…though remembering childhood crushes in the midst of a wet dream did more than make him flail around in the bed, that was for sure.

But when he woke up from those dreams he didn't wake up in a cold sweat. Rather with a numb nostalgia in his chest…aching…

Throbbing…

…And with Alfons already up and out of the bed, door wide open and room tidied up as well as it could have been with him tossing, turning, and even going so far as throwing pillows in his sleep. It was a wonder the…the _clone_ got any sleep at all as it was…or how he was so damn _cheerful_ in the morning. That smile was about as strange as it was unnerving…

As was that damned penetrating stare of his.

It had only been a few days, but Edward knew that the man was watching him.

Maybe it could have been his imagination…

A desperation for closeness, perhaps…or something like that. The human want to be near another person…in their core, human beings were 'social' creatures after all, yearning and reaching out for contact even when at their most alone. And God knew that he was about as alone as they came…

…No.

That wasn't it.

He was sure that those eyes were on him for that split second he looked in his direction…before darting away, concentrating on something else. The table, the blueprints, the rocket—anything.

Anything at all.

If Alfons Heiderich was trying to be 'subtle', then he was doing a damn horrible job at it. Even _he _was better at it than that. Certainly he wouldn't have jerked his eyes around and jittered like some sort of idiot.

Though right now he wasn't doing anything that seemed 'strange'…simply talking to Dog-boy over in the far corner of the room, looking over some blueprint or another and going back and forth about some theory that he was sure wasn't going to work. The shells were too weak; even with the strongest propulsion, there was no way that the outside could hold all that strength together unless the design was changed or they used a new material for the outside.

Damn it…at this rate, he was never going to get home…

_**I'm sure you'll be able to go home to that…Resemburgh place eventually.**_

…

Edward shook his head, forcing the words out.

She probably just heard him talking in his sleep…that was the most reasonable conclusion, in any case. When one talked in their sleep, they spoke of things that they would never speak of in the waking world…due to embarrassment, or what-have-you…it wasn't anything more than that.

He'd just have to be careful about where he slept from then on…

Which then raised the question of Alfons.

His staring.

Had he heard something that that little girl heard, too? Had he said too much in his sleep?

Even if he did, there was no way for him to possibly understand it as anything more than it was…just peoples' names and faces, maybe…probably nothing more than that.

But why would Alfons Heiderich be staring at him if there was nothing important to be gained in doing so? Given the circumstances, that didn't make sense.

Then again…a lot of things about Alfons didn't make sense. He'd look at Edward one moment with this strange, haunted expression, and then smile at him like there was nothing wrong, genuine joviality in his tone. Then everytime Edward did something he'd watch it…almost too closely…And then when his actions were noticed, those blue eyes would dart away—they'd focus on anything in the room after that…anything but Edward himself.

And then there was that incident yesterday, when he helped Alfons with lifting one of the engines. Alfons had mumbled this strange German phrase…one that he didn't really understand:

Gleichwertiger Austausch.

And he said it several times after that too. In fact, whenever he did say it, one of the other lab mates would say something in a joking tone and then laugh, causing Alfons to blush.

He'd have to look the word up in a dictionary later, when he had time. He didn't need Alfons translating everything for him after all, and the easier he could handle himself in this strange place, the better.

Though he still had to wonder…

There were those strange things he would slip with, too.

_"Edward, is something wrong?" _

_Edward growled, turning his eyes away. The similarity to Al was just too strong, and sometimes he couldn't help but stare, damn it…_

_"Nothing." Ed grunted. _

_"I don't look like your little brother or something, do I?" _

_"What the fuck does that mean?" _

_"It was just a joke…"_

_Though Alfons was clearly nervous…_

And then that other time…

_"You really don't seem like a New York sort of person to me…I'm rather surprised." _

_"What's that mean?" _

_Alfons responded with a nervous smile. "I, ah…You seem more of a country-boy type to me…"_

Or when he…

_"Ed, what's wrong?" _

_Dammit…he was staring at him again. He told himself he wouldn't do that!!!!_

_Alfons blinked a moment, then took a glance at the wrench he was holding before taking a glance at Edward. _

_"Don't worry—I'm not going to lob it at you." _

There was something clearly up with that guy. But he couldn't put his finger on _what_. Staring at him, saying this weird shit…next thing he'll be drawing transmutation circles and announcing that he was Envy, disguised as a clone of his younger brother to catch him off-guard before he killed him.

_If it was Envy, he would have killed me by now._

But…it was still unnerving…

Something was up with Alfons Heiderich…

And Edward was going to figure out what it was.

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

Edward had said those strange things in his sleep for the next few nights since that one night; quiet and moaning into the air sometimes…other times screaming out loud and sending Alfons down to the floor as usual, making him fall on his face and lie there on the hard wooden surface…on which would probably become his permanent sleeping home.

It wasn't like he could get any sleep with Edward flailing around, anyway.

The first night…it was Al and Winry.

The next night…it was a certain Colonel Mustang.

The next night…it was a certain "Envy" that he spoke of…angry and gasping as if he had something wedged through his chest.

As all of this was crashing down on Alfons, it might as well have been pierced through _him_…

It couldn't be. It was impossible.

The chance of such a world existing was in a very low probability…something much lower than any percentage that could have crossed Alfons's brain, anyway…much lower than .000000000000000000000001 percent, and even with that, one had to put in the probability of the manner of getting from one world to another without being crushed or permanently changed in the transitional phase…

It just wasn't possible. Even if there were alternate dimensions, the means to get from one to another was…

_Unless all of this that he mentioned was one large coincidence. Though…what are the chances of that, given the circumstances? Talking in his sleep, when you've never spoken to him previous this, mentioning things that were just like the dreams that you've been having since you were a child. And his name is Edward Elric…and two of his limbs are, in fact, fake. Unless normal legs and arms have metal glinting off of them with a rubber 'skin' coating. You tested that theory last night by grabbing and prodding those limbs when they had fallen out of his cloth 'haven'. You touched them, and he didn't react…and yet you poked his other shoulder while he was napping today and he nearly punched you in the face. Don't you see anything wrong with that? _

_But then, his limbs aren't metal. _

_Though there are no automail mechanics on this side, and who's to say that he didn't invent his own prosthetics to 'fit in' more closely with this side, and to blend in with the people as he searches for a way home? If he's in fact looking for a way home…_

_There are too many variables going against it. _

_There are too many variables going __**for**__ it. _

…this couldn't just be a mere coincidence, but at the same time this couldn't be right.

If Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, really was, in fact, real…and in this world…and Alphonse Elric's issues in that world were in fact true…

What role did he play in all of this?

Why did he see these dreams, and why did he end up meeting the same figure that had been existing in his dreams for the past five years, if this was in fact the same person? Was there any real reason, or was he just going crazy, thinking about something that in the end didn't really make any sense?

What reasoning was there?

This didn't make any sense to him.

This didn't make any sense to him at all…

It was like a formula that he couldn't solve…

Alfons sighed, running his hand through his hair.

Edward had long since went off to eat something…leaving Alfons alone to think for the past…God knew how long.

He had been watching him closely. Too closely…

So closely that his mind was ready to explode with the amount of information that he was extracting from watching this man walk, talk, eat, even sleep.

He had a lot he needed to understand and learn, and nothing seemed to make any sense. Edward acted the same, moved the same, spoke the same…even reacted the same to certain situations that sent him in a frenzy in Amestris (_My dream world_, Alfons hurriedly corrected). He didn't drink milk, he was argumentative, and he was overly scientific…to the point where anything that even seemed superstitious was laughed off and mocked in his horribly pronounced German. He even disliked being called 'short'…so much so that one of the only phrases he could speak properly it seemed was: "WHO YOU CALLIN' SO SHORT THAT HE CAN'T BE FOUND IN THE BOTTOM OF AN EMPTY BEER MUG?!"

It was a wonder he hadn't started hounding Alfons with questions…after all, slipping with the phrase "Equivalent Exchange" wasn't the norm, though Edward, as a foreigner, wouldn't know that. And then there were those times he had baited him to answer…with remarks about 'looking like his brother' or 'you seem like a country boy' and the like. Alfons didn't like such underhanded tactics…but he had to know, and if this was Edward Elric, it would take a lot more than being in the same space with the man to get any sort of information out of him.

_Though there is the chance that he is not the same person…Or, conversely, he could be the same person. With all the variables in place, the chances of him, in fact, being __**the**__ Edward Elric are about a 25 chance to the negative, and a 75 chance to the positive. _

He sighed again.

_…And about a 100 chance that I'm crazy or worse. _

Oh, Alfons, Alfons, Alfons…Alfons Heiderich the rational. Alfons Heiderich the cool-headed. Alfons Heiderich the warm and understanding.

All of this seemed to fly out the window in the appearance of Edward Elric. If this was the same Edward Elric or just one who resembled him in physical stature, name, and personality…who knew the answer really?

None of it made sense…

None of it at all…

_Even in Alchemy, there was always a sense of equivalence. Depending on the type of Alchemy, a different type of circle had to be drawn, sure—_

Alfons didn't even notice himself drawing the 'fire' type Alchemic array on the sheet of paper in front of him—

_—but in the end it always led to the same result. Some sort of balance. The end of an equation…the proverbial equals sign. Perhaps even an echo…It always leads to the same answer. But my problem with Edward has so many branches that it doesn't go like a simple equation, or even a Function or a formula. _

He then started writing down basic equations…simple things that he wasn't even truly understanding, with "E" as the variable for "Edward" and "A" for the variable "Alfons", and other such nonsense alphanumerical combinations such as "Al" and "M" standing for other names, places, and ideas that were conjuring up in his head as he wrote.

_The problem is…what is the equation…the balance that leads to Edward? That leads to the end of this? Does it lead to me being crazy? Or does it lead to there actually being a parallel universe with Edward Elric somehow being able to traverse among them…The last of my dreams are quite fuzzy…at least the dreams of Edward Elric being the Fullmetal Alchemist…_

A few more equations were sketched in…simple, little things…just things that he was absent-mindedly writing down in his own haze of questioning…

_It's just, none of this makes sense_

"What the he—Alfons, what's…?"

"AGH!!!"

_…Oh my. How graceful, Alfons. Falling out of your chair when the roommate you're thinking so hard about was __**looking over your damn shoulder**_.

…Damn it. The chair broke under his weight. He was skinny as it was…but…

"A-ah-ah…"

Edward took a glance at the paper on the desk, before picking it up and holding it in front of his face.

Alfons blinked.

What was he…

Edward's eyes lowered…haunted…dark…staring at him…

"The hell is this?"

He turned the paper, showing it to Alfons.

The array.

Oh shi--

"Alchemy can't be used on this side," Edward said, his eyes flashing. "It's defunct…used from the dead souls on this side to power the transmutations…I tried using Alchemy on this side so many damn times and it didn't work…Nobody was even supposed to know about it…It's a pseudo-science here…lost in history. It was never properly _developed_ on this side…"

_Alchemy. This side…Defunct…Pseudo-science…_

Alfons couldn't believe what he was hearing.

This couldn't be right…This couldn't be right. It was impossible…Improbable…

"I…ah…w-well…y-you see…" Alfons fought…swallowed, choked…swallowed again. He tried to find some form of wetness in his throat but he found none, instead feeling the racing of his heart in his chest as Edward towered over him…this much shorter man towered over him and looked at him like he was going to skin him alive and eat him for breakfast.

Oh God…

What had he just gotten into…?


	7. Truth and Misconceptions

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

"Alfons…how the hell do you know about this?"

Alfons was shaking. Shaking, wide-eyed…like some cat was caught in the headlights of a speeding car, or maybe like a poor little kid when they find out that their parents are getting a divorce. Something like that. Something awful…something akin to shock…

Frightened.

Cornered.

He probably shouldn't have been towering over Alfons as much as he was.

But at the moment he really couldn't find himself giving much of a damn about the idea.

He had stared at him…watched him…mentioned things offhandedly that had to do with his past even though he _wasn't_ part of his past and he had no real ability to know these things…slept next to him, worked with him, talked to him jovially and played translator for him when he needed help (even when he didn't want it, dammit)…he didn't trust him at all, but he was _right next to him_. With him the whole time.

He could have watched him.

He could have investigated his weird behavior.

At least investigated it sooner…

And yet…

He found this.

The array was well-drawn, straight-forward and precise, like he had been doing it for years. The equivalent of what Edward would have seen on Colonel Mustang's gloves…The circle had no notches in it, no strange curves, and each individual line was perfect, almost like it was done with a straight-edge.

But the question was how the hell Alfons Heiderich knew about it.

How the hell _Alfons Heiderich_, rocket scientist and boy wonder and goddamn _Alphonse Elric clone_, knew about alchemy.

_His_ Alchemy.

Alchemy was defunct on this side…a pseudo-science. All the books had said so, all the _professors_ had said so. Hell, even his Dad had said so, may the bastard rot in Hell. It was fueled by the dead spirits of this side, transformed into energy for transmutations…

The arrays…the science…the physics…everything was for naught, and impossible to teach or get anyone on this side to understand.

And yet Alfons, he…

"Ah…E-Edward…" Alfons was backing up on his hands and feet, backwards-crawling, almost.

His eyes were so wide…

And his expression was so shocked.

_I'll bet you were shocked, you bastard. What else are you hiding? _

"I…" he was almost whispering, moving to stand on his feet. "I can explain…"

"Then explain."

"I…ah…"

He wasn't saying anything. Simply sitting on the floor, staring at him with wide blue eyes…like Edward was going to raise a hand to him if he did anything that wasn't to his liking. Or even worse, that he was about to get killed.

Fear.

That was clear enough.

Alfons backed away a bit more.

"Well?" Ed took a step closer. "Didn't you say you could explain?"

"Ah…it's…a…long story."

_I bet it is._

"I'm not sure…if you'd be willing to listen to me tell it."

"We have all night."

"Ah…w-well, I…I just…"

"Just what?"

Alfons let out a sigh; a soft sigh, and one that Edward was sure, in the back of his mind, that he had been holding in for a long time. Blue eyes had lowered (_silver, they were supposed to be silver, dammit_), and he had even brought himself to turn away, glancing down towards the floor.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you, Edward…"

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

Edward didn't seem to be fazed by it, even when Alfons looked up. His eyes were still hard…impossibly hard, and _gold_, staring at him with an intensity that made him want to stand up and bolt, locking the closet door as he proceeded to hide in it for the rest of his existence, never to see humanity again in fear of what the man would do to him once he did. His prosthetic fist kept clenching and unclenching, and his mouth was formed in a tight, straight line.

A tight straight line that didn't foretell any sort of mercy for Alfons.

Not that he would have expected anything less from Edward Elric…not in a situation like this. Not when he, who shouldn't have known anything at all about this, in fact knew too _damn_ much about the subject for it to even be healthy or normal.

Oh yes.

Alfons Heiderich had to be pretty damn suspicious in his eyes.

Especially now.

_But the chances of him even…even __**accepting**__ what I have to say are so slim…He'll be able to flatten me in no time at all, too…I'll hardly have time to scream before I'm a bloody mass on the floor. Edward isn't the type to go after weak, defenseless young men, but with the circumstances I'm pretty sure he'll think of me as anything but 'defenseless'. _

"Even if I did tell you…and you did believe me…what would it prove?" he was digging his own grave. "I can't perform Alchemy…as you said, it's impossible on this side. I can't take you ho—"

"Damn it, quit playing games with me and _tell me!_"

Oh God, he was going to die. Edward took a menacing step forward.

It took all of Alfons's willpower to not curl into a ball and _weep_.

How the eyes of an Elric can bring down even the most rational of men, bring them down to their knees and turn them into shaking, crying children.

"I'm…!" He almost lost his words…they almost got caught in the back of his throat, never to be seen again: "I'm not playing games. I'm telling the truth. If you want to know, I'll be" _petrified, frightened, unwilling_ "glad to tell you, but I'm certain you won't believe me, even if I _do_ tell you."

"How do you kno—"

"I don't have to be a rocket scientist to see that you would call me a liar."

But at the rate that Edward was going, staring him down, just glaring at him like that…it wasn't like he was going to be giving him any other choice in the matter. Alfons was going to have to break down and just talk to him eventually, and that was the last thing he wanted. He had wanted it before…but seeing those distrusting, coldly blazing golden eyes made him start to rethink his priorities.

Very, very quickly.

"…I think you're making up excuses."

_Well, you're right about that. I'm not denying anything._

Edward paused, taking a breath. "…because you're too scared to get beaten for a second time. What I want to know is why you're still playing dumb. Why you didn't kill me when you had the chance. You could have done it a long time ago…God knows you tried your best to get me to figure it out."

_Wait, wait, wait, WHAT?! _

"But now you're not attacking me. Maybe you've really weakened on this side. After all…Homunculi aren't natural to this side…your powers aren't meant to really work here."

_Homunculi—_

Wait.

God.

Oh God no.

Edward wasn't implying what he thought he was implying, was he?! That he was a…

"Maybe that's why you made that lame-ass copy, instead of making the real thing. Thought you would trick me with that appearance—you look just like Al, but at the same time you look different enough for me to be thrown off. I must say, you're getting sloppy."

_Wait, wait wait. He thinks I'm a…_

Alfons had to resist the heavy urge to _laugh_.

_A Homunculus. He thinks I'm a Homunculus. And not just any one—that shapeshifting one, the cowardly one who had to rely on using others' forms in order for him to get the upper hand. What was his name, anyway—I can't seem to remember which one he was—_

His body started to shake; softly at first…just light trembles…until his entire form turned into a great rumble, his already fallen body now hunching over, arms over his stomach and eyes closed and tears pouring down his face…

It took a second for him to realize with dawning horror that he was actually _laughing_.

Laughing, long and hard, with an infuriated Edward Elric over him, fists clenched and he was certainly ready to let a few punches fly. He was laughing while he could get the sense kicked out of him at any time. He was laughing when this certainly wasn't the right situation to _laugh_.

"What the hell?!" He could hear Edward snarl. "What's so funny?!"

Oh Lord, he was going to die. He had enough time to do his final prayers before Edward sent him into oblivion with his fists, feet, body…his skinny body wouldn't take many of Edward's hits before it was down for the count and gone, faster than one can even blink.

But for the love of God, his mouth had started to run away with him in-between chuckles…it was like his mind and body were two separate entities, running away from each other—

He was _screwed_.

"Edward…you…you seriously think I'm…I'm a…Oh God…hahahaha!!"

He knew that he was going to die. He knew that Edward was going to pull back a fist and hit him, hard, if this kept up. He knew it but he couldn't bring himself to stop laughing.

It was all just so damn ironic.

"Here I am…thinking that you're…some figment of my imagination coming out of my dreams, and you…accuse me of not even being _human_, of being the one who isn't real…"

His laughter had started to fade…the voice that had once been so loud lowered and fell to a dull chuckle. He closed his eyes, unable to look up at the man he was sure was fuming at him, fuming and ready to beat him into the ground for the nonsense he was most likely spouting out.

"I've dreamt about you long enough…Maybe all of this _is_ just a dream. I'll wake up, over my blueprints…"

It was like Edward wasn't even there. What was he doing? He was just babbling to himself now.

"And realize that the dreams I had about the Fullmetal Alchemist are just that…dreams. Nothing to be embarrassed…much less frightened about."

_Who am I trying to persuade with this? Me, or him? _

"Dreams?"

He almost didn't hear Edward speak, not over the blood rushing in his ears or his heart racing. The edge was still there, but it was soft—so soft that Alfons's mind didn't register it at first.

Alfons's eyes opened, but now they stared down at the floor.

"Yeah." He whispered. "Dreams."

_"Mother…" _

_Blue eyes had looked up at him, long blond hair falling down her shoulders, down her back…her face was so gentle, so sweet. Like an Angel's—at least, that was how he had always seen it._

_"I…" Eleven-year-old Alfons shuffled a bit where he stood, unable to meet her gaze. "I had a strange dream."_

_Call him a mamma's boy—say that he was too weak to ever fight for the sake of Germany, say that he had been better suited as a woman than a man. It didn't matter. Nothing did, not when his mother spoke her next words: _

_"What kind of dream was it, Alfons? Come on…tell me about it."_

That's right.

She was the only one who he had told about them. Not his brother; no, he would have laughed. Not his father, either. He would have said something about how he didn't raise a novelist, and would have been very disappointed.

She was the only one who had ever listened to him.

_"If you dream about that 'Edward' fellow tonight…be sure to let me know how he is, all right?"_

_"Of course, Mother."_

Mother…damn it, what he would have given to have it be her right now. She may have humored him, but it was the best he had…she was the only one who listened. She was the only one who he would let into that. And yet here he was, facing the subject of all those dreams that had entertained her so much, even when Father and Brother went off to war when he was around thirteen, leaving them alone…He was facing him and had to tell him everything.

But…

"You'll probably laugh at me. That, or I'll look more suspicious than I already must be to you."

He didn't want to do this. He had wanted to at first—but being confronted with it now…

"If you want to know, I'll tell you. I doubt you'll believe me, though."

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

That couldn't have been him. That slumping, pathetic, almost broken young man that was sitting in front of him now couldn't have been someone who wished him harm. He looked like he had gone through a meat grinder, maybe worse, hair falling over his face and blue eyes down towards the floor as his fingertips idly made transmutation circles into the wood (_Plant Alchemy, like Fletcher Tringham used in Xenotime…_). He made no effort to move from his spot; rather stayed there, not even bothering to look at him.

_If it was Envy, he would have attacked me the second I exposed him. Who the hell is this guy?!_

Ed let out a mental sigh.

_If it was Envy he would have killed you by now, and he sure as hell wouldn't have given you HINTS like that. What the hell were you __**thinking**__?! Seems like you're steadily going crazy right along with this world you're in. _

"I…" Alfons swallowed hard. "I had a fever when I was around ten years old. I was horribly sick, I didn't know if I would make i—"

"No offense," Edward interrupted with a snort, "But what the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"It will make sense, Edward. I promise. Just…hear me out."

Edward huffed, crossed his arms, but shut up.

"Anyway…I wasn't sure if I would make it. My mother thought I was going to die, and my older brother and Father weren't too hopeful either. I was delirious, I remember that. Crying, and calling for things I didn't quite understand at the time. It had started suddenly. I think I was eating an apple or something when I had fallen over in pain and got the fever. I was pretty young and I was always sickly, but this was the worst I'd ever had in my life. …You can understand me, right Edward? Do I need to go slower?"

"I'm not a fucking idiot." Edward didn't even bother speaking German—as far as he could tell, Alfons understood him, his responses were just bad. Sort of like how Ed was with his German. "Just continue."

"All right. Well…the fever lasted only an hour at the very most. But as I said before, I was in horrible pain, and my entire body felt like it was on fire. I screamed and held out my hands, as if reaching for something. I was speaking in a strange tongue, something my parents knew snippets of but something I knew not a word of, and yet…

"Well. That was just the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. After the fever I drifted in a deep, deep sleep; it was hard to say how long I was out, but I'll never forget what I saw. Or what I saw the nights thereafter for the years to come."

_Where was he going with this?_

"When I woke up…" Alfons let out a tiny sigh. "I…couldn't feel my body. I was in a dark room…a basement, maybe. I'd held out my hands in front of my face, tried to maybe feel something, but I realized very quickly that I wasn't the one in control of the body I was in. Blood was everywhere; I was very, very scared. I wanted to run away, but I couldn't. The body just looked around in disbelief, speaking in a language and in a voice that wasn't mine, but somehow I understood.

"He saw a young boy in the corner, without an arm…without a leg…"

_No…No fucking way. _

Ed's heart skipped a beat. His breath caught in his throat. This couldn't be right. No fucking way. There was absolutely no way.

" 'Sorry Al', the boy had said, 'for my arm and leg, I could only get your soul back'."

…Fucking Hell. No, this couldn't be right. No. No, that…

_That doesn't make sense. Why the hell would he dream about Al when he became armor? And start having fits right before that? On that exact night he became armor? It doesn't add up. He's not from my side, and even though he looks like Al, he's not Al at all._

"Did this 'fever' of yours happen during the day, or at night?" The question popped out before he himself could stop it. It was ridiculous…there had to be something wrong with this.

Alfons kept his head down, and his fingers stopped moving.

"At night…sometime late. Maybe around ten to eleven o'clock…I was supposed to be in bed, but for some reason, I couldn't sleep. Something had kept me up…I'll never forget that."

Ed wasn't aware that he had started shivering until he pinched himself to get him to stop.

"I started having the dreams shortly after that."

"Dreams?"

"Dreams." Alfons repeated. "Every night, I had dreams about the suit of armor Alphonse Elric, and his older brother, Edward Elric. You, I'm assuming. You two started out just recovering in Miss Pinako Rockbell's home…"

_I can't fucking believe this…This isn't __**right**__…_

"…I still remember the screams when you got your automail. Al was supposed to wait outside, but I still remember the sight that greeted his eyes when he looked inside. He always blamed himself for that, you know…the pain you suffered when you had the automail…"

_A homunculus would have been a better explanation for this. He's spouting off stuff that only people on the other side would know…but damn it, this doesn't make __**sense**__! Why would he know this?! Why would he dream about it? Dad had mentioned that there were different 'versions' of us on this side, but for the connection to be this __**close**__…_

"…I still wonder what exactly the Colonel would say to you in his office that would make you so angry back then. Al always wondered too, though I admit I did ponder on it a lot when I was awake. Maybe a bit more than was necessary…."

_This is…this is insane._

He…had to sit down. Had to get a drink of water, had to think, had to _something_…He had to do something other than stand, stay there and gape at the man whose mouth was running off with him, blue eyes not looking at him and taller body like rigid water in a slumped sitting position.

Too many questions…

Too many non-answers.

Who the hell _was_ Alfons Heiderich?

"…I even dreamt the time you guys were studying for the State Alchemy exam…because of you, when I went to school, I almost answered arithmetic questions with alchemy formulae…and somehow, no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to forget any of them…"

This really was too much.

_What…the…This doesn't make any sense. Fever, pain, dreaming about Al, speaking a language that his parents knew but he didn't; if you're delirious you speak in gibberish, usually—it's just not possible for a person to speak a known-language that they don't know themselves…_

Ed coughed once. God, his throat was dry. His throat was dry, his mind was hurting, and his heart was racing at a mile a minute, holy _shit_—

"Hey, Alfons, hold on."

_Someone tell me I'm dreaming—_

That was the first time Alfons had looked up; were those…were those tears prickling at the side of his eyes? His cheeks looked like they were stained, and his lips seemed to be quivering…

No, that couldn't have been right.

But…

"You said you yelled something in a foreign language when you got the fever."

Alfons nodded. "Yeah. The first time I got it, anyway. It was in English, strangely enough. I didn't even know English as a little boy—to be honest, the reason I started studying it in the first place was because of this exact thing."

"There was a second time you got the fever?" Ed asked.

"I got it three times. Once when I was 10, another time when I was fourteen, and then the final time was two months after that. I only turned fifteen a month ago, actually…"

_Once when he was ten…the next when he was fourteen, and the third time two months after…_

"Though…considering what I dreamed about, afterwards…it was sort of strange that I had said what I said."

_Strange? _"What did you say?"

Alfons let out a shaky laugh and lowered his eyes again. "I said…"

_Damn it, just tell me! _"Well?"

"…_Bruder._"

Edward Elric then fell backwards, landing on the floor with a loud, unceremonious thump.

---

**Resembool, 1924**

---

Dinner had gone by as per normal…nobody said anything, rather staying in their own little worlds, most likely imagining the extra set that they(_Winry, not 'they'…Granny looked upset when she had decided to set the plate, fork, and knife out like that…_) had set filled, his loud voice booming through the room and making everyone feel as chipper as ever. Granny at least tried to make some scrap of conversation, and Al followed suit. But Winry just wouldn't say anything…rather let her pretty little head lower and let her eyes go down towards her plate.

He didn't try to say anything to her this time.

He managed to make it on his own to his room tonight; it took him a few tries to get up the stairs but he ignored Winry's protests when she told him that she'd help him.

_"Al! Don't keep doing this! You'll get hurt! You don't have to push yourself so hard!" _

_Al grit his teeth, clinging harder to the rail. _

_"I do though, Winry. If I don't walk now, how am I ever going to find Brother and bring him back home?"_

_"Al, don't be ridiculous!" he couldn't see her, but he knew she was glaring at him. "Ed's—"_

_"Going to come back home to us one day, Winry." He said with more firmness than he actually felt, "Trust me. He'll come home. If not now, if not a few years from now, he'll come home. I know it." _

Tough words from him. Tough words from the coward who could hardly face a single girl, and was too scared to go to sleep at night.

Al flopped down on his stomach on the bed, letting out a tiny sigh.

Why would he dream this stuff? Was his brother trying to tell him something?

But he was in _his_ body, "Alfons's". Not his own. Not in his brother's, either. So was this "Alfons" trying to tell him something instead? But that didn't make sense…_he _dreamt of Al, too. He was just as confused as he was, trying to make sense out of something that he must have been trying to cope with for years. And then his brother comes into the picture, and he became more confused than ever.

In a way, the two of them were in the same boat.

But he seemed to have gone through this for years…and yet this was the first time—stretch of time, rather—that he had ever dreamt of him.

Did "Alfons" know?

Did "Alfons" know what had happened to him during those lost years of his?

It was probable…but…

Al nuzzled his face into the pillow and took a deep breath of the scent of the pillowcase; soft, light and flowery. Winry had done the laundry that day, she had to have…it smelled almost just like her.

He had done her blanket earlier, when he had decided to help with the chores; did she notice his scent? Maybe she hugged it closer, knowing it was him.

Al shook out the thoughts and nuzzled the pillow some more, pulling up the blanket and sheet and wrapping both around his tiny body.

It felt good. Felt warm.

His skin was so sensitive, and everything was just soft enough…it didn't irritate him at all.

Not at all…

Letting out a soft sigh, Al curled himself into a tiny ball, closing his eyes and falling into slumber.


	8. Overstepping the Line

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

"You said you yelled something in a foreign language when you got the fever."

Alfons nodded. God, were they really talking about this? The only one he had spoken to about this was his mother… "Yeah. The first time I got it, anyway. It was in English, strangely enough. I didn't even _know_ English as a little boy—to be honest, the reason I started studying it in the first place was because of this exact thing."

_To understand what in the hell I was saying, back then…but even so, my English still isn't that good, is it? I have a long way to go…_

"There was a second time you got the fever?" Ed asked.

"I got it three times." God his throat felt dry. He needed to drink something. Anything…anything to keep that scratchiness out of it!! "Once when I was 10, another time when I was fourteen, and then the final time was two months after that. I only turned fifteen a month ago, actually…Though…considering what I had dreamt about, afterwards…it was sort of strange that I had said what I said."

"What did you say?"

Alfons let out a shaky laugh and lowered his eyes again. There was no way he was going to believe him at this point. Hell, he wasn't believing _himself_. "I said…"

"Well?"

He took a deep breath.

It was now or never…he'd best just say it…

"…_Bruder_."

Edward Elric then fell backwards, landing on the floor with a loud, unceremonious thump.

"Brother, huh…?"

Edward wasn't looking at him anymore. Golden eyes were already down, bangs falling over his face, obscuring it…his body was limp, like ragged spaghetti on the floor, staring at nothing, but his mind was most likely whirling. Right hand shaking, left twitching…how was it that a prosthetic hand could twitch, anyway? Was the mechanism starting to malfunction? With the way Edward was acting, it was perfectly possible that he had not gone to see a decent mechanic in ages…but what were the chances of anyone in this day and age being good enough to repair prosthetics that were most likely cleverly disguised automail?

_I'd still like to take a good look at them, just once…_

Alfons swallowed hard, nodding, though he was sure that Edward was unable to see him, in any case.

"Yes," he whispered. "That's what I said."

"But that can't be right. You didn't know English, right? Why the hell would you be spouting it off when you don't even fucking know it?"

Now it was Alfons's turn to clench a fist, lowering his eyes again.

"I don't know, Edward. I don't know at all. I don't even understand any of this, if it makes you feel better. You suddenly showing up here, my dreams, all of this…"

_**You**__ don't make any sense. You don't make any semblance of sense, Edward, and you're the one talking as if __**I'm**__ the one who's crazy?_

"You seem pretty calm for someone who doesn't understand." Ed snapped.

Alfons couldn't help but laugh at that. "Am I? I've been going crazy ever since you got here."

"Didn't seem that way to me."

"Unlike some people, I don't let my innermost thoughts get in the way of my work."

"When did I do that?!"

"When you kept storming out of the room instead of actually working, rather going off to mope by yourself instead of just dealing with the problem."

"The hell would you know about dealing with a problem?! You've probably never gone through anything in your life!"

_Never gone through anything…who the hell does he think he is?! _

Never gone through anything…

Ever since his the war started…

Ever since his father and brother left to go to war…

He…

_---_

_**Munich, 1917**_

_**Alfons Heiderich: Age 12**_

_**Dieter Heiderich: Age: 15**_

_---_

_"Alfons…I'm gonna have to go." _

_Alfons wiped his tears on the back of his sleeve, back straight, shaking…his heart was going a mile a minute, even though he was sitting stationary on the other side of the bed. His brother was so close…so warm. He was almost close enough to touch…But he couldn't reach his hand out…couldn't touch him…_

_"Bruder…er, Dieter…are you sure? It's dangerous to go out to war." _

_He spoke softly…gently, even when giving that normal goofy grin of his. God, how could he do that? He was thin, raily…dorky as they came and he looked more like their uncle than their father, but even when being serious, he could still be warm and silly at the same time…it was like his older brother had come home, after all those years. _

_It's like the Dieter that existed after the war started had went away…and the older brother that he knew was back home. _

_"Father's already fighting, Alfons. He's a professor, and yet he threw everything aside to fight in the war. I need to do that too. As a man, it's my pride and duty to go out and serve my country. You're still young…so you have to do what you can to protect Mom, okay?"_

_Alfons nodded. "S-so…when you're gone…" he wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to cry… "When you're gone…I'm going to be the man of the house, right?" _

_He was still smiling. It was like when Dieter smiled, the entire house was alight in a glow…it was like nothing else mattered anymore, so long as he was smiling and making them laugh. He had thought that before the war, his smile was all he needed, but…_

_All this fighting had gone and taken it away. _

_But here it was…back again. _

_"Yep. So you better take good care of everything while I'm away, okay? Make sure not to cry." _

_Alfons's eyes were already watering, but he was wiping the tears away before his brother could see them. _

_"I won't cry. I won't! I won't cry! I'll be strong—just like Edward!" _

_Just like Edwa—Oh HELL. _

_"Edward?" _

_"Ah…um…Eduard! I read about him in a book!" _

_Nice save, Alfons. There was no way talking about Edward would do the situation any good, even when his brother was back to 'normal' again. Mention something as childish as that, and the 'other side' would be back. _

_Alfons didn't want to think about how his brother would look at him if he knew about those dreams…_

_The younger Heiderich's gut clenched tightly, and he almost shut his eyes, anticipating what he knew was inevitable…_

_But he kept his gaze on his older brother, swallowing hard and blushing…_

_He knew what he was going to see…but…_

_Dieter's eyes only grew softer. There wasn't that laugh that he usually gave him when he was reading…there wasn't that __**look**__ anymore. _

_"This is why I can't stay in school anymore, Alfons. I'm not smart like you; you're the one who understands all those books, not me. I wanted to go to school so I could avoid fighting in the war…so I could stay home and look after you and Mom. But you've grown so much, Alfons. You don't need me anymore…and I'm proud that you're my baby brother." _

_"But I do need you," Alfons wanted to shout, "__**We**__ need you, brother! Who else is going to cheer us up when we cry? Who else is going to laugh at my unbearably bad jokes?" _

_But he stayed silent, watching his brother and trying his damndest not to __**cry**__, cry long and hard and make himself look like a girl…_

_"Alfons…" The elder Heiderich scooted forward…and suddenly warm arms were wrapped around Alfons, pushing the little one towards a thin chest. Too thin…not strong, like his father's, or soft, like his mothers…thin, bony. A lot like his. _

_His older brother, he who had turned away all affection since this damn war started…_

_Was hugging him again. _

_Was hugging him and even stroking his hair in that way he always did when they were little. _

_Just like Mom._

_His brother had always been the closest to Mom, no matter how much both he and his father had said that it was Alfons that resembled her the most…_

_"I'm going to miss you. But I promise I will come home. I'll come home and I'll even have a girlfriend to bring home, how about that?" _

_Alfons couldn't hold it back anymore. _

_He cried…__**wailed**__… into his brother's shirt, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist, hugging hard enough to never let go. _

_"Alfons…" the voice in his hair was a whisper…he almost couldn't hear it. "I love you, little brother." _

_"I love you too, big brother…" _

_That night, they had slept in the same bed, just like old times…never truly sleeping until late in the night, hiding under the blanket and telling old stories, laughing, tickling each other…but there was still that sadness in their eyes…the tears that almost spilled (and did spill, many times, from Alfons's eyes…)…_

_For tomorrow, Alfons's older brother, the eldest son of the Heiderich family…_

_…would be going off to war. _

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

"Alfons, hey! Dammit, the hell are you crying for?!"

Crying…?

There was a wetness against his cheeks, that was for sure, but…

Tears?

That's right. He was thinking about his older brother. That was the night before he left…the night before he had gone off to fight in the war and never come home. His mother hadn't even told him about it, though Alfons was sure she knew long before (she had cried pretty hard a week before all that, come to think of it). It was funny that he even remembered that, since that was the start for…

_"I won't cry! I won't! I'll be strong, just like Edward!" _

"Just like Edward", huh? The same Edward he was in the same room as now?

The same Edward who was shaking him roughly by the shoulder?

What had driven Alfons to even _say_ that back then? Looking at Edward now, he was hardly the sort of person that he could have looked up to.

At least, not older Alfons.

A younger, weaker Alfons, on the other hand…

"What the hell did I say to upset you, anyway?!"

Edward was leaning closer—he could feel the breath on his neck, and Alfons didn't think before his fist flew out, slamming against flesh.

Within moments, both arms were wrangled above his head, and gold eyes were burning down on him, a body straddling him and pinning him down hard harder hardest into the floor. God, if he held him down anymore, his back was going to break! This was insane!

Though it was certainly his fault for punching him.

"The hell was that, huh?!" Alfons clenched his eyes shut; he didn't want to see it. He couldn't look into those eyes that were blazing at him. It was one thing to punch him…looking at him when he was like this was another matter.

It was the equivalent of looking into the eyes of death itself.

"You keep acting like you're the only one suffering, Edward!" Dammit, his mouth was running off with him just like he told himself that it wouldn't! "Just because you're the only one who's had a brother whose body was destroyed by a Gate, the only one who's managed to fight Homunculi and live, the only one who's been plagued with your kind of guilt, it doesn't mean that you're the only one suffering in this world, damn it!"

Crying, crying…dammit he could feel the tears start to prick the corners of his eyes and he told himself he wouldn't _cry_ anymore!

"There are others suffering here, same as you…quit thinking you're the only one in this world, Edward!!"

"This world?! The hell is this world, anyway?! Once I find a way home I'm _leaving_; if you knew me so well, you would already know that! Hell, maybe this world isn't even real—just a figment of my imagination and I'm already dead."

_"Al, don't be ridiculous!! Ed's—"_

_"…Going to come back home to us one day, Winry. Trust me. He'll come home. If not now, if not a few years from now, he'll come home. I know it." _

Already dead.

If Edward was already dead…

Then what was Al going to have to believe in? Who was Winry going to lob that wrench at when he went in the door? Who was going to yell at Colonel Mustang, wherever he was, whenever he was lazy and decided to give out dumb missions that didn't have any meaning?! Who was going to visit their mother's grave with the younger brother when her birthday rolled around, to put down her favorite alchemized flowers on her grave?! Who was finally going to waltz in the door and say he was finally _fine_, and give everyone that idyllic world that they had been yearning for, ever since this whole problem began?!

_Edward Elric, you are the most selfish, diluted, self-righteous and conceited person I have ever met in my entire life!! _

"You're dead, are you?! This world's just some sort of _hell_ for you, is it?!" Alfons was shouting now…he was sure the entire building could hear him…though it was a wonder nobody had stopped the fight sooner. God, he could feel his stomach clenching, contracting, clenching, contracting…

Alfons's head felt so light. His stomach was turning but his head was light…buzzing almost. God, he could hardly think, even as he kept on, shouting at the man with his eyes shut:

"Then you'd better explain that to your little brother and family and friends, crying at home! You'd better tell them quite clearly that you're dead, you're never coming back, and watch your little brother's heart shatter into a million pieces! Watch him cry as you walk out on him, just like your father did!!"

Alfons didn't even bother opening his eyes. He didn't need to; he knew what he'd see. Flashing golden eyes…taut, quivering lips…an impossibly angry glower, one that would make most sane men soil themselves and go running towards the nearest safehouse.

Only insane men tangled with Edward Elric.

And apparently, Alfons now fit in this category.

"You…"

…Alfons felt the punch hit his face even before it connected.

---

**Resembool, 1924**

---

He couldn't even remember when he had first met Winry; it seemed so long ago, it was like he had known her forever. Always smiling, laughing in her loud, carefree manner that had always befit her, tossing her hair back maybe, or playing with some mechanical something-or-other. A wrench, maybe…or that train set that Mr. Rockbell had given to Ed for his third birthday, but Winry ended up keeping instead, since his too-impatient brother gave up trying to set it up and got bored with it after the third unsuccessful attempt.

Had he introduced himself first? Had she introduced herself first? Ed had probably been sulking in the back as per usual, and it was the most likely conclusion that Al had brought her to him, introducing them like the friendly, social younger brother he was. Did she smile? Did she kick up her feet?

No. That would have been a very Nelly thing to do. Not Winry. Never Winry.

She would have smiled and held out her hand…asking for them to shake.

Sort of like how Winry was the first day they had met 'again'…Al standing embarrassed, blushing and awkward in front of that prettier, older Winry.

Except this time…

Her eyes were sad.

---

"Al? Are you sure you can do that by yourself?"

"I'm fine! Trust me!" _I want to be more useful to you, Winry. I can't keep sitting around anymore. If I keep sitting around, who's going to find Brother? And besides that, who would take care of you?_

"Well, are you sure you don't want me lifting that? It's a bit heavy."

"It's really okay! I got it." _I'm not going to let you lift these things by yourself._

"If you're really sure…"

Al picked the metal spares up and held them in his smaller arms, walking up the stairs with a bit of difficulty in his legs, though he still somehow managed to stand upright. He could feel her hands at his back, holding him steady…almost burning into his skin as his face started to flush.

But he kept walking. Never would he let her see his blush.

---

…Of course, the stubbornness carrying those things up the stairs was what had made him lie like _this_, on his back on the couch with a warming unit under his back, covered with a blanket. It worked like a charm at times like this—Winry had built it back when he was having achy muscles in his legs and needed to ease cramping. Normally they fit around the legs like cuffs, but she adjusted the design for use on the back when the mother of one of her normal patients threw their back out after a routine maintenance. It was handy, especially during times like this, but…

_I can't help but feel useless._

It was true, too. Winry had already checked for fever and other bodily maladies (though why would she be checking for fever when it was just a hurt back? Muscular functions didn't seem to connect to immune…) and run into the kitchen, already fixing him up a dinner that he _told _her he would have been able to fix, once he could stand. But no, stubborn girl didn't listen and ran out into the kitchen anyway (_It's a wonder Auntie Pinako even let her use the kitchen…the last time I remember her cooking she blew up the stove and almost set the house on fire…but…she's a lot bigger now. She probably had a long time to practice…_), grabbing materials from the pantries and set everything up for dinner.

"What do you want, Al?"

His choice. It had always been his choice of food.

He hadn't minded at first, but somehow those expectant, awed eyes that stared at him while he ate got to him. He didn't mind eating his favorites every night, but over time, it just wasn't fair.

Why was it always _his_ choice as to what they got to eat?

"I dunno," he called back, trying his best to sit up but failing miserably—God, his back hurt; too much lifting so soon could carry quite a strain on the back—I kinda wanna have curry tonight."

A pause.

"Al, are you _sure_ you're okay? I thought you didn't like curry all that much."

"The last time I had it was when your mom made it a long time ago, Winry. I'll probably like it this time."

"Are you sure you don't want anything else?" she asked.

"No…" Al said with a smile. "I think I'd like to have your favorite food for a change. You do like curry extra-spicy, right?"

"Yeah…"

She almost sounded like her old self again…as much of the old Winry as this older version could be, anyway.

"Then let's have that." Al said.

"Are you really really sure? I do like it spicy, you know."

"I know. But you like it, right?"

A laugh. He actually heard her laughing in the kitchen! "Al, you've always been so nice. That's going to get you into trouble one of these days."

"You think so?"

"I _know_ so. Even after all of what happened, you still…"

Wait.

What _happened_?

Al pricked up his ears and tried to sit up for the umpteenth time, but a sharp pain shot through his back, so he laid back down, resting against the pillow.

That must have been about something that happened…during the time he couldn't remember. The 'lost years'.

The time that Alfons had to have known about. He definitely acted like he knew something…

But he was only seeing this through a dream, if it was real at all (_it had to be, but…_). It wasn't like he could wave his hands and say "HEY ALFONS! DO YOU SEE ME?!" He'd look like an idiot…maybe even be considered certifiable and sent to the closest mental institution. He shuddered at the thought of what kind of psychotic crazy-men had to live in one of those…people that maybe were possessed by ghosts…or killed their families or snapped during the war…

Alphonse shuddered again.

No way. He wasn't risking going to one of _those_ places.

That would have been too scary.

And if he was locked up, who was going to find his brother?

"…oh well, what's done is done, and you don't have to worry anymore!"

There was the fake cheerful voice again. He had upset her without realizing it…or maybe she upset herself? It was like Winry was one of those…what were they called? Bipolar people? He had remembered reading about mental issues when he was studying with brother…

_No way. Winry isn't crazy. She's just depressed. Or something like that…But she's not crazy, I know that. _

Mood swings.

That sounded better.

Not like 'crazy'.

But…she was never like that before. What had happened to _make_ her like this…or was it just his brother's disappearance?

_I don't know…_

"…If you say so." Alphonse whispered, though he knew that he didn't agree with her at all.

He had to worry about it.

After all, any man would want to know what happened during a time that he couldn't remember.

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

"…hey, Alfons."

"…yeah?"

"…can you move?"

"…barely."

God. He could hardly move at all…not a finger, a toe…Edward had got him good, that was for sure…after the way they had torn into each other after that comment, fists raised, feet flying, and grunting in the open air…it was a wonder that nobody had stormed in, much less that the two were only lying bruised up on opposite sides of the room.

And _Edward…_how had he managed to hit Edward that hard? Through his swollen eyes, Alfons could see a bruised cheek, bloodied lip, beaten face…actually, when looking at it from his vision, Edward looked more worse for wear than _he_ did. That didn't seem to be right. This was Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist (who apparently could still hit just as hard with a prosthetic as he ever did with automail. Ouch!). The Fullmetal Alchemist who had fought inhuman monsters and survived…had gone through Hell and back and survived enough to end up here in the first place. It just didn't seem right to think that Alfons Heiderich the Puny managed to give him such a beating.

_Maybe he's been slacking off on his exercise since he's been here. I wouldn't doubt it…Al was his most common sparring partner, wasn't he? _

Alfons almost flinched at the thought of that.

Poor Al.

Poor, poor, Al.

He was probably watching this, or at least will see this sometime in the future.

His big brother…

Beaten by _him_…

Yeah. Pigs were going to fly by his window right about now.

"Damn, you hit me pretty good there."

"With what? The kick to the shin, or the elbow to the sternum?"

"Fuck you, you skinny bastard."

"Didn't this skinny bastard just beat you to a bloody pulp? And for shame Edward—Your normal German is incomprehensible, and yet when you speak vulgarly, it comes out just fine."

"Keep your opinions to yourself."

"Or what? You'll throw your arm at me? You can hardly move."

"I've still got my other limbs."

"Your fake ones, right? It's sort of hard to use them when the rest of your body is battered like that. A man can't walk on one unfeeling foot, you know?"

"And dammit, you're just fucking obnoxious. How the hell do you know so much, anyway?"

"And I keep telling you—"

"Well you know what? It's creepy. Don't even know why I thought you were anything like my brother; you're nothing like him at all."

"Besides the fact that I beat you senseless, you mean?"

"Aryan prick."

"Alien swine."

"Are all Germans as racist as you?"

"I believe you started with the racism first, Edward. Don't pin your bigotry on me."

"Fuck, I really wish I could hit you right about now."

"I don't think my poor body could take it, to be honest. You gave me a bad enough beating as it is."

"You compared me to my father."

"You underplayed not only my suffering, but your brother's suffering as well."

"How the hell did I underplay _Al's_ suffering? He might not even—"

Alfons should have stopped himself from speaking. It wasn't as if Edward believed him, and with this tacked onto it, he was just asking for another beating. Just asking for another punch in the face when Edward was able to stand, and then his body really would have shut down. Really would have become bloody wall paint.

But instead, Alfons's mouth, for the third time tonight, had run away with him:

"Al's fine. He's alive…he's depressed, and searching for you, but alive."

Edward let out a sigh.

"If this is your fucked up way of making me feel better Alfons, then you really need to have your head set on straight."

"I'm not trying to make you feel better." Alfons closed his eyes…God, they were so heavy... "I'm simply telling the truth. If you don't want to listen, that's fine. Just trust me when I say I know that he's all right."

"…"

"…"

"Your 'dreams' again, Alfons?"

"Something like that."

It was strange how much Alfons could feel and hear when he was full of pain. The air against his skin, stinging his bruises and making the open cuts on his lip and arms tingle. It was…an interesting feeling. Edward's breathing was heavy…almost heaving as he lie on his spot across the room (Alfons might have thrown him there, but everything went by so fast it was hard to tell who did what). It was amazing enough that Alfons had heard him over his own heavy breathing…God, his lungs felt like they were going to collapse in on themselves…he was already wheezing. Damn it. His lungs never were very strong.

"…So you really know he's okay? That Al's okay?"

"He's fine, Edward. I'm not sure if he knows that you're okay…or even that I see what's going on, but …"

"Tell me then."

"What?" If Alfons _could_ blink, he would have right then.

"Tell me about Al. If you really know. Knowing my luck this conversation probably isn't happening, and I'm lying around unconscious somewhere, but what the hell?"

"I'm barely able to keep my eyes open, Edward. I'll tell you tomorrow. After we get these cuts and bruises treated."

"Figures that even in dreams I can never win."

"I'm not saying that I'll never tell you; I'd just rather tell you when I don't feel like several trains hit me."

"Forget how puny you are."

"Do you want me to hit you again?"

"…Oh fuck it, fine. Tomorrow it is. It's not like this is really happening anyway."

"So if I walk up to you and let you know at some point that I'm going to tell you about your little brother, does that mean that you're not going to swear this world is a dream and hit me again?"

"Hey, you crossed the line."

"…I really did."

"…"

"…Edward?"

"…."

"…Edward??"

"…mmm…"

So he was already asleep? How did the man suddenly talk with only a slight slur and then fall over asleep? Besides, he hadn't hit him that hard, had he?

No…

Maybe he was just exhausted.

Like Alfons was feeling now, his eyes starting to droop, and his arms slackening at his sides.

He felt so tired…

And before he knew it, his eyes were closed, body relaxing in sleep.


	9. Parallel Worlds

---

**Transylvania****, 1921**

---

"OWWW! Shit!"

"Oh, don't be a baby, Edvard. Whose fault is it that you got into a fight, hmmm? Scared Noa half to death when she found you there in the morning, all bloody and beat up! If you're willing to fight, it means you don't mind the pain..."

"I'm German, not a masochist..." Alfons's voice was heard grunting in harsh German on the next chair, cold compress against his face and another against his arm, soaking up the blood. They had already been covered in disinfectant; now it was simply the water, to fully cleanse the wounds...

Though neither Alfons nor Edward were okay with such a concept.

Even if the wounds would, at one later point, somehow infect.

"And you keep quiet too, Alfons." Frau Oberth snapped, rubbing on one of Ed's wounds especially hard, causing him to jump. "You should have known better, too. Men and your pride...what made you two beat on each other like that anyvay?"

"Ah..." 

Ed wasn't sure if she really wanted to know exactly _what_ Alfons had said to cause the issue...what he had said to cause Edward to pin him down, punching him until Alfons fought back, punching _him_ just as hard until they were bloody messes on the floor. That woman was just daunting anyway...he was sure that if he even started telling his story, she'd pick up that huge silver ladle on the counter and beat him with it like Winry would with her wrench...except the heavyset woman seemed a bit more aggressive than Winry ever would.

Maybe it was the accent.

Though he had never heard it before...even from the Germans. It sounded something more like one that he had heard when he had gone through London forever ago...a bad accent, granted...something that hurt his ears, and with the German it sounded even worse and more unintelligible...

He strained his ears in an attempt to hear what she was saying, her mouth flying as she spoke to a disgruntled Alfons next to him.

"Alfons, I keep tellin' ya that you're too good to let your emotions get the best of you! You've got so much goin' for you if you'd just get your emotions out of the way of your work! I don't know what went on between you boys, but you'd better play nice, at least during the remainder of time that you stay here!"

Where did he hear that accent?!

"Where I'm from, normally people just solve issues with a pint and let it be done with!"

"A pint?"

"Sorry—a beer, then. Sometimes I forget what language I'm speakin' in sometimes…I used to speak good English when I was a girl—can hardly speak it now 'cept for scattered words, I've been speakin' German for too long. Guess that goes to show what happens to elopin' girls."

_She eloped? _

Poor Alfons almost seemed scandalized, giving her a half-shocked, half-curious look.

"You eloped, Frau Oberth?"

Edward had to keep from chuckling when the woman pressed a little bit hard on Alfons's wound, making him squeak in a mixture of pain and surprise.

"That's not the sort of question you ask a lady, Alfons Heiderich." She accented his name with another press to one of his more painful wounds, eyes lowered almost in a scolding expression.

"OW!" Alfons cried, and Edward actually _did_ snicker, earning him a glare.

"Yes, I did elope, and don't you do it with another young lady, either. Hurts 'em to be away from family, y'know. And Hermann, if I didn't love the man…"

She seemed to ramble too, just like her husband.

It was no wonder that the man had married her, when you looked at it like that…

"You two, whatever you did to get yourselves into this mess, I want you to get yourselves out of it. You're two very intelligent young men—you don't need to be wastin' your time fighting like a pair of little kids. Edvard, Alfons, I don't want you two carryin' this fight back to the factory so you—"

"Don't worry about it, Frau Oberth," it was amazing how Alfons could speak so clearly even when his cheek was swollen, "The problem's already solved. It was just a misunderstanding, is all."

"A misunderstandin' that got the two of you beatin' on each other like punchin' bags!"

"But everything's okay now, so…"

Alfons was probably the worst person at diplomatic relations that Edward had ever seen. Everything from his pathetic smile, the light wave, and even the tiny blush on his face did nothing but earn him a glare from the older, more irritable woman…

As well as a whack upside the head with a ladle.

"If you wanna let me know that everything's okay, then you two start getting along and don't let me catch you two doing any of this…this…"

"Don't worry!" Alfons really was trying to get her to relax, poor guy. "Everything's fine!"

…That only earned him another, harder hit in the head with the ladle.

…

And Edward got hit harder for laughing.

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

"Alfons! Mister Edward!"

Needless to say, Noa was worried. She had just come into their bedroom to call them out to breakfast (they were late! It's not good to be late for any meal; it's not efficient), and then she had opened the door and saw them lying on either wall and covered with cuts and bruises and they looked like they were in a huge fight. Were they mad at each other? Why would they have been mad? Alfons didn't like fighting and Mr. Edward wasn't a mean person (he had scary dreams, though!)…

What could have happened?

Alfons didn't look very good, even when he went out of the kitchen; his lip was swollen, his cheek was bloated, and he had a black eye and lots of cuts and stuff all over his body. Mister Edward didn't look much better than he did. Alfons gave her a nervous wave, while Mister Edward jammed his hands in his pockets…scowling?

It was hard to scowl when your face was torn up like that…

"Don't worry Noa…we're okay."

Alfons sounded a bit funny with his lip sticking out like that…sort of muffled…but Noa wouldn't laugh. It wasn't nice to laugh at someone who was hurt. She had laughed because Mister Havoc burned his hand and Alfons was very stern with her about that.

_"You don't laugh at someone when they're suffering…that's wrong." Alfons said, giving her his 'now see here young lady' look. "Besides, you don't like the fact that Mister Havoc is burned, do you?" _

_"No…" Noa admitted. "It just looked funny…how he yelled and stuff." _

_"Well…next time he yells like that, ask 'are you okay' and try to help him. If someone's in trouble, the right thing to do is help them." _

…And Noa wanted to be a good girl. She didn't want to be mean to anyone…

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked. "Did you and Mister Edward get into a fight?"

"Ah…"

The two exchanged looks, and Noa blinked.

"Um…did you?"

"Well…Noa, sweetie, that is…"

"If you did, you'd tell me, right?" He would, right? Alfons didn't like lying, after all…and he told her that only bad girls lie. "Right, Alfons?"

"Ah…"

"It's private." Mister Edward finished for him, not even looking at her. His head was resting on his shoulder, and looking off towards the opposite wall.

"Privit?" Noa asked.

"Yeah. Private."

Why would what they had to say 'private'? That was what Frau and Herr Oberth said when they were closing the door and keeping her out of the room at night, when she heard weird noises through the door. But that didn't make sense. Alfons and Mister Edward were both boys, and they just met…

That didn't seem right.

"Why is it private that you two are beat up? Did a monster go into your room and attack you two?"

…Why did Mister Edward look like he was going to start laughing? And why did Alfons glare at him like that? Had she said something weird?

"No, sweetie. A monster didn't attack us." Alfons said gently, kneeling down to pat her on the head. "But Mister Edward and I have to talk about grownup stuff, so I'll talk to you later, all right?"

Grownup stuff?

"Um. Um…Alfons?"

"Yes, Noa?"

"Um…um…are you and Mister Edward going to get married? Because um, um…the only one I know who says 'grownup stuff' is Frau Oberth, when she's talking to Herr Oberth…"

She wondered why Alfons was blushing…and why Mister Edward was laughing so hard.

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

"Edward, it isn't that funny." Alfons scowled, jerking the chair out from under the table and plopping down in it.

"Funny as hell to me." Edward sat down himself, _still_ unable to hold back those snickers, damn him. It wasn't _that_ funny (maybe to a passer-by or a listener, but definitely not to _him_, dammit!).

"You wouldn't be laughing if she had asked if you were the _bride_, Edward."

"Just proves that long hair really doesn't make you effeminate."

"**Edward**."

This wasn't helping. They were supposed to be having a simple, serious conversation…_serious_…and yet all that could course through Alfons's mind was that innocent smile, the shimmering brown eyes, and that sing-song voice that had asked them the embarrassing question that caused him to be blushing like a madman and grumbling in the first place. Edward seemed to think it was a _riot_; little girl assuming that Alfons—tall, short-haired, clumsy Alfons—was more feminine than the long-haired, pretty, _shorter_ man who was sitting opposite him.

It wasn't a riot.

It was a conspiracy.

A conspiracy between God, Ed, Noa, and the rest of the world to make Alfons's life _hell_.

It was a bit of a convenience that Frau Oberth had kicked them out the door (almost literally—so much for her infinite patience and taking them in stride…), telling them to 'cool off' before they 'scared anyone else into an early grave'. Nobody would have thought twice about the pair of tousled young men wandering the city on foot, grabbing a random table at a near-abandoned café and sitting down at it. It wasn't as if anyone came to these places during the day anyway—besides the various homeless men, women, and children who hung around the restaurant dustbins, digging inside them for something to eat.

Alfons could never bring himself to look at them; look at him, living in a home, having a roof over his head…and yet he couldn't even help the poor people who were left to suffer the most because of the outcome of that damned war. Those hard years had taken their toll on everyone…But they, the innocents, had to suffer more than anyone else. In some cases, even more so than those who had to fight in the battles…because at least they had proper burials if they were dead, honored as those who died for their country…and if they were alive, looked upon as proof of the war's cruelty, and treated with great respect by the various passers-by…

But there were others who weren't so lucky.

_Damn war. Damn Americans. Damn French. If it weren't for them…_

Alfons sighed, unclenching his fist.

No…the result would have been the same…except _they_ would have been the ones suffering in the end.

_Even if they have nothing to do with it, innocents still end up being the ones paying the price for the winners' actions. And no matter how 'diplomatic' or 'peaceably' a war ends…it's still the losers who pay the ultimate price while the winners gloat and write the history for the history books… And so round and round the circle goes…_

Alfons cleared his throat, keeping his eyes down at the table a moment before finally looking up.

He had to focus.

"So, Edward…About Al."

Edward seemed to have been off in his own little world—it was like he hadn't heard him at first. Eyes cloudy, chin in his hand, staring out into the distance…he blinked a few times, shaking his head once before registering as 'awake', giving Alfons a rather surprised look.

"Huh?"

Alfons sighed. This was going to be a long conversation. He just knew it.

"Don't you remember, Edward? After I beat you to a bloody pulp—"

"—You did not!—"

"—you told me that you wanted me to talk to you about your brother. What I know."

"…"

He took a deep breath and turned his gaze down, biting the outside of his lip; he couldn't bring himself to look up towards Edward—to see that haunted look on his face or the distance in his eyes. He'd seen it enough; he didn't need to look at him to know what _that_ was like. The way the eyes would dim, tremble just a bit, then widen, pupils dilating and the gold dulling even in the brightest of light, in which it would normally form into a bright haze—

This was crazy.

This whole situation was crazy.

_I'm telling someone, who I just met but didn't just meet, about a little brother who I look just like and also dream about every night and about things that should never even be __**sane**__ my God, how do I even explain this to myself? I'd say this is a dream, but dreams aren't normally this painful—he really got me good. _

But crazy or no, he made this bed of his. Now it was time to lay in it.

"How…How much do you remember of what I told you last night?"

"…Honestly?"

"…Yes."

"…Too much. It doesn't make any sense. You're not Al, and you've never had any contact with the Gate; there's no way you could touch into memories of the other side…much less feel any connection to Al at that level. If everyone had that sort of connection, then everyone on this side would know Alchemy, theoretically. And conversely, if everyone on our side dreamt about their alternates on _this_ side, then the technology that's on this side might have either accompanied, or even completely replaced the use of Alchemy."

_You're right. It doesn't make any sense. But that doesn't make it any less real. _

Alfons let out a sigh. "Even so…"

"Even so, this is fucked up."

Another sigh. "Messed up as it is, Edward, it happened, and there's nothing you or I can do to change that."

Wasn't that the truth. Just thinking about what he was going to have to say almost gave him a headache.

He swallowed hard.

"Remember…when I told you that I had those strange fits a few months before I came here?"

Edward wasn't being any help. It wasn't any lack of seriousness on his part—when Alfons had the courage to look up at him, all he could see was a young man sitting ramrod straight with golden eyes piercing into his very brain matter through his skull—but rather a…well.

"Are you going to look at me when you talk, Alfons, or am I going to have to knock your head into place?"

"S-Sorry. You just look so…intense. It's hard to look at you."

"Intense? You make it sound like you're coming onto me."

"Don't say ridiculous things, Edward. Of course I'm not coming onto you."

"Ah, is my blushing bride deciding to confess her feelings to me already?"

"Edward, do you want a repeat of last night?"

"Just get to the fucking point then!"

"I will if you'd let me!"

"You're acting like a girl, Alfons."

Alfons's eyebrow twitched.

…and he promptly refrained from hitting Edward, _hard_, upside the head.

"As I was going to say, Edward" _breathe in, breathe out. Do __**not**__ hit Edward for calling you feminine in public, do __**not**__ hit him_ "Shortly after I had that fever, that was when I started having the dreams again."

"About Al?" Edward asked.

Alfons nodded. At least his throat wasn't dry now. It felt a little wet…raw, a bit, but still wet, and it was easier for him to talk without his palms starting to sweat. "Yeah. When I was a kid, Alphonse Elric was in a large suit of armor—he couldn't feel anything, and when I dreamt, I couldn't feel anything either. It was in a sort of numb cocoon…things were…_sensed_, rather than felt. And his field of vision was well…different." _Breathe in, breathe out…_"It was like standing outside of someone's body, but still being inside—I'm not really good with words, so it's hard to explain exactly how to say it without calling it _between_ something. Like you're in the body, but you can see outside the steel, though you yourself can see _from_ the steel. The vantage point was also in the chest, not the head, because that was where his center was…the blood seal…"

Edward made a visible twitch.

"So…when I found myself dreaming and I opened my eyes, only to find feeling…it was almost a shock too much for me to handle. Like the feeling you get when you brush your teeth…only to eat something really cold or really hot afterwards. Alphonse was lying somewhere really dark…and cold. I don't exactly know where it was…it looked…like some sort of auditorium. There was very little light, and Alphonse's eyesight was still very fuzzy...No, Edward, Al's eyes are fine. Don't worry. Just…at the start, it took a while to adjust. His body also took a heavy strain…he could hardly walk. Couldn't talk very well, either. His skin was also increasingly sensitive…"

There was no way Edward would believe this, even if it _was_ about Al. Here he was, Alfons Heiderich, seemingly a normal rocket scientist who just had weird dreams every night that were just a bit too vivid (and an illness that went on and off and nobody could explain past simple painful delirium—it was a wonder he wasn't admitted into an asylum just yet)…there was no reason to believe his story. Or even consider believing it, for that matter. What was there to believe? Any other person would have locked him up and thrown away the key long ago, and Edward had no real reason to trust him. He trusted very few people as it was, but someone like _him_, with his background and the fact that he knew of his little brother and knew of _alchemy_ of all things made him even less trustworthy. Alfons was simply waiting for the moment Edward shot down everything he said…

"Now tell me what's _really_ going on," he might have said.

No. He would have added some extra swear words somewhere with that. At least, with this stage of irritation. Alfons was sure that he didn't really trust him…

"…How do you know all this?"

…And lo and behold, Alfons was right.

…well. Not with exact quotes, but close enough.

"I told you already, Edward."

Edward didn't seem to be buying it. Not that he would have expected any less. In fact, he'd expected he be more vulgar or at least hostile about it.

Odd.

Perhaps Edward Elric had learned a little bit of restraint.

_…I don't think that's possible._

"But you said that you didn't know where Al was." Ed drummed his prosthetic fingers on the table—some sort of nervous twitch that couldn't have been possible in modern-day prosthetics—and Alfons could feel himself swallow a bit. "If you'd been dreaming of Al, like you said, you'd know where he was."

"That's just it. After I got the fever a second time, the dreams…stopped."

Edward gave him a dubious look. "Stopped?"

"Y-yeah. For several months, before I finally got the fever for the last time, and then they came back."

"What was the last thing you remember?" Ed asked, though Alfons had a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to catch him in some sort of lie.

"Before the dreams stopped?"

"When else?"

---

_"I…I'm scared…"_

_The scarred man had knelt down beside him, reddish eyes almost glowing in the noonday sun. There was no feeling in that armored husk, but somehow he could almost taste the grain in the air, feel the heat of the wind, and smell the blood in the air. That man had carried more blood on those hands of his than anyone else could possibly imagine, and yet he was looking at him with such concern. It was almost mind-boggling how he…_

_"Stay still, Alphonse Elric," His voice was always thick and near monotone. It made no sense how that voice could carry so much emotion, even when speaking like this. "I'm not sure what's happening with your body, but we don't want to make it any worse. Just try not to exert yourself." _

_He was a bomb…a ticking time bomb…why wasn't everyone running away from him? He was going to blow up any second!! _

_"I wouldn't touch him if I were you, Scarred man." _

_As frightening as the woman "Lust" was, her words held true. There was no telling what would happen if he somehow touched him…_

_And yet a conversation still went on. Al spoke out in fear; if his armor could tremble, it would have, perhaps giving reference to the two arguing in front of him that his mind wasn't quite sound enough to listen to the full conversation. _

_Oh God. He was going to die. _

_He was going to explode before he got his body…_

_But the scarred man was looking at him now, and he was touching his body…he couldn't feel it, but he could see it…_

_And the locket was being tied to his loincloth…_

_Oh God. _

_He didn't know if there was a God…and if there was, He had probably forsaken him…_

_But even so, in his mind, Alphonse Elric still found himself praying. _

_---_

Alfons closed his eyes. He didn't need to be there to know the familiar sight of that desert…to know that red glow…the scarred man's face as he looked down at Alphonse—and himself, though he probably didn't know it—and touched his hand to the armor…

It was vivid. Almost like it had happened yesterday…like so many of his dreams.

"…Lior." It was almost a whisper, spoken from trembling lips. God, why was he shaking now? It had been months since he had that dream, but still, it… "Al was lying on the ground, and Scar, and that Homunculus was there...Lust. They were talking…Al had become a bomb, because of the Crimson Alchemist…Kindley…no, Kimbley. Al had jumped in the way to help during a battle, and Kimbley died, turning Alphonse into a ticking time bomb. Lust and Scar were hovering over him, discussing a way to help…then Scar tied the pendant to Al's loincloth, and…well…"

His hands were still shaking.

"Then he was covered in a bright light, and there were these symbols all over him. Scar lost his arm…then he and Lust ran away, and Al was left alone. Al waited for a while on the ground, and then a…"

He shuddered.

"A red light came and covered him…and then right when Al started screaming, I also woke up screaming."

Why was Edward so easy to read, and yet at the same time, so unreadable? His eyes were so intense, burning holes in Alfons's skull and making him want to crawl under the table in a fetal position, yet at the same time his mouth was thinned and his hands were under the table, in his lap. They were either twitching, in fists, or down flat but Alfons wasn't about to go looking under the table to find out one way or the other.

He was almost worried as to what Edward was going to say…

Had to say something to fill in the gap…

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"So…Alfons." Edward spoke slowly…almost like he was choosing his words carefully. It didn't do anything but make Alfons nervous—an irrational and immature Edward he was used to, if only in his dreams and him never associating with directly, but a _mature_ one was almost beyond what he could possibly take. "So you dreamed about Al…and the last dream you had before you started dreaming about him in a flesh body was during Lior."

Alfons swallowed hard. "Y-yeah."

"Then…if you only dreamed about Al…" His voice was like a bowstring, ready to snap. "How did you know about Alchemy?"

_At least he gave me an easier question to answer._

"Because I was dreaming about Al." Alfons sighed. There was no way he was going to believe him. Not like he really believed him _now_, but still. "Everything he saw, I saw too. Everything he read, I read too. It's like he forced me to assimilate every bit of information he ever received."

_He's not going to believe me. His back's very straight and his shoulders are trembling a bit—either he's ready to punch me, or laugh at me…I admit, I'm not quite ready to see which one it is just yet._

"So in other words…" Poor guy. He was really _trying_ to compose himself. "Everything Al knows, you know?"

"In short, yes."

"Everything about Alchemy?"

"I know everything from Alchemy to your unhealthy crush on Riza Hawkeye."

Alfons almost laughed at the gigged expression Ed threw at him, deep blush on his cheeks and all. The widening eyes and the fact that he almost fell out of his chair—okay, _did_ fall out of his chair—made it even more difficult to hold composure. So much for the more mature Edward Elric. Even when he was trying to be like an adult, his attitude was still so similar to that of a child.

Edward crawled back onto the chair, coughing.

"I did _not_ have a crush on the Lieutenant." Edward turned away coughing again. "And besides, how the hell would you know that anyway?"

"Edward, I already told you. Everything Al…"

"Fucking hell, that's…"

"Screwed up, yes. We've previously established that."

_Screwed up doesn't begin to describe it…Novelists would have a field day with something like this. _

"So let me get this straight…" Edward coughed again. It was no wonder he was looking away from him; this was probably too much for the poor man to wrap his mind around. "All the Alchemy you learned…was through Al?"

"Yes."

"So everything Al knows…"

"…I know."

"How is that possible?"

"I just told you…"

"But Alchemy doesn't _exist_ on this side! It's not even probable for your consciousness to go beyond the gate into Al's body. And for you to start dreaming about him right when Al got stuck into the armor…That…just…the souls of the dead on this side are what power Alchemy on the other, so for you to go beyond the gate into Al's body while dreaming doesn't make any sense. The only way a soul can transcend the Gate is if they die, and even then they're only used as energy for a transmutation."

Alfons sighed. "But I'm not dead."

"I can see that."

"So there would have to be another explanation."

"Either that, or you'll full of shit."

"Edward, what could I possibly gain in lying to you about all this? The best I'll get is someone believing my insanity, and the worst I'd get is being put away in an institution."

"I don't know—I just—" That wasn't a good sign. Edward was starting to wring his hands a bit, halfway between throwing them up in the air (the table and Alfons along with them) and slamming them on the table, and at this rate Alfons wasn't sure which one he was going to do. If we was even going to do _that_, and not just pace back and forth across the café grounds until either his prosthetics died from overuse or his shoes were worn through. "I've never even thought something like this could happen. I mean, I should—you look just like him! It's only probable that you're…"

_That I'm what?_

"Edward?"

His hands stilled a bit, but he turned away, voice dulled to a small mumble.

"I can't hear you."

Edward's hands were moving faster. Alfons had never known Edward to speak with his hands, though maybe that habit was starting to develop now; with this sort of insanity on the plate, anything was possible.

"That you would be the Al of this world."

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

"How could that be possible? Al and I are two different people."

He didn't know how he didn't make the full connection before. With the Envy theory, the imagination theory, the 'I-don't-want-to-even-think-about-it' phase…his face was the same, his hands were the same. Alfons was a lot weaker and much less muscular than Al was, and his hair and eyes were different, but they were identical.

Just like there was a 'him' in this world, there had to have been an 'Al'.

Just like there were Greed's various cronies, who he almost couldn't look at, even though he had to deal with them and talk to them every single day.

It was hard. Almost too hard.

Especially when any of them would smile at him like that, knowing what sort of fate had come to them on the other side. It would always take all of his willpower to smile back.

Edward cleared his throat. Alfons was looking at him with that expectant look of his, the one that he would throw to anyone when he was asking for information of any kind (usually used on Law, who was the only one who told him that it didn't look more like a pout than any sort of determined look). His eyes were steely and hard, but it was hard to look in them. They were the wrong color, but that was _his_ color.

Alfons's color. Not Al's.

But they were the same.

In a sense.

In most senses.

In many senses, not most.

Oh fucking Hell, he didn't know what to think about this!

"W-well…not exactly. See, you are a reflection of Al from my world. Everyone here mirrors someone from the other side of the gate, but since it's just a reflection it's not exact. The reflection is _like_ the real thing, but it's still got enough differences for it to stand out on its own."

"'Reflection'?"

Good, Alfons understood. Al's eyes always clouded up a bit whenever he was in thought, so it was nothing to worry about. He almost expected him to tilt his head to the side a little, scratch the top of his head, and then say in that innocent tone of his, "Is that so, Brother?"

_But he isn't Al. He may be the Al on this side, but that doesn't mean that he and Al are the same person. . _

_**But even if he is, he's still Al—and will still have some of Al's qualities no matter what world he's in.**_

"A reflection. Like a mirror."

Alfons blinked…his eyes were still fogged and unreadable. His hand was starting to shake—maybe this was a bad sign after all?

"But who's to say that your world isn't a reflection of this one, Edward?"

His world, a reflection of _this_? This…this…backwards, religion-intensive, ignorant, bigot-filled world? There was absolutely no way in _hell_ his world could have been the…

"That's impossible."

"How is that impossible?" Alfons asked. "How can you say that this world is the reflection so easily, Edward?" Alfons's eyes lowered, and he stood up straighter in his seat, hands clenched into fists on the top of the table. "You say that our world's souls go and power yours; then wouldn't that just be the same thing as our world being needed for your world to survive? So in the end, wouldn't that make our world, in turn, the original, and _yours_, the reflection?"

That just couldn't be right. That would mean…

_No. That's not right. It's not _right_, damn it! _

"That just can't."

"Why not, Edward?" Alfons snapped. Oh hell, he really _was_ pissed now. His hands were shaking more, and he could hear his feet tapping underneath the table. "You obviously think this world is a sort of illusion created for the sole purpose of powering your own world. Wouldn't it be logical to look at the other side of the argument, instead of stubbornly defending your own without any sort of proof? True Science is to look at both sides and weigh out all possible outcomes before making a final decision. To just decide all of a sudden like that…"

_I didn't say it was an illusion! Just a Reflection, dammit! _

"I didn't say it was an 'illusion', Alfons—"

Alfons cut him off, expression deceptively calm. "No, but a _reflection_. A reflection is nothing more than light waves bouncing off of a flat surface and creating an image. An illusion. Something that _isn't real_. Are you following me?"

"Your world is on the other side of the Gate. A copy of mine—"

"That's exactly it, Edward." Alfons's single fist did nothing to ease Edward's mind, and the man looked like he was about to go into convulsions with his shaking. What had he said that was so wrong? This world was the other side of the coin. It was a world in the image of his, right? It powered his world with their dead. The places were different, but there was so much that was the same that it was almost uncanny. What else could it have been? What did he say that was so _wrong_?!

_Maybe he's one of those types who can't stand to hear the truth. That doesn't seem right, he's a scientist for fuck's sake! And yet he's talking to __**me**__ about the proper scientific process? He doesn't even know what the hell he's talking about._

"What's just it, Alfons?"

"Think about what you said for a moment—you're not dense, or thick by any stretch of the imagination."

"What the—are you _patronizing_ me?!"

"How can I? I'm just a copy of your brother. In your logic, I'm only half-real. It's sort of hard for inanimate objects to patronize someone, don't you think?"

He wasn't getting the point. He knew it would have been hard for Alfons to understand. Even with the knowledge he got from Al, he didn't understand as well as Al. Didn't process it as well. His brother would have understood; fuck, what he would have given to see Al right about now…

"I didn't say you were half-real—"

"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you then, judging as a reflection is in perfect sync with the object that it is reflecting."

"Don't take my comparisons _literally_, damn it!"

"But that's what you think, isn't it? That I'm just a _copy_ of your brother. You've said it yourself."

"Just because you're a _copy_ doesn't mean you have a life and existence of your own! This is a completely different world, and in this environment, Al would've"

Alfons shot up from his seat, slamming his hands, _hard_, on the table. His muscles were twitching, and his hands weren't shaking now, but merely twitching—it was his legs that were starting to shake. Poor guy was probably only keeping himself upright by those hands. But it was hard to notice any of those things as much when Alfons's blue eyes were staring at him, hot and blazing…almost like he was ready to leap the table at him. "It's still going back to Al, so you see, even there you're saying that my personality and actions are not at all dependent on _me_, but on Alphonse Elric. My existence here is only evidence on how _Alphonse Elric_ would react to the situations. Not myself!"

Why was he being so stubborn? It was already determined that he was Al on this side. He's had dreams about him, knew all he knew, and with that added together, if his story was true, that shouldn't have been such a shock.

What the hell was _wrong_ with him?

"Just because…" The German's voice was low, trembling. "Just because we look similar, doesn't mean we're the same person, Edward."

Ed felt a wrench in his chest; he tried his best to ignore it. Not with those blue eyes starting straight at him. The fire was gone, the anger was gone. Just…

He looked tired.

But he couldn't say anything, as Alfons could only continue to speak: "I was surprised at first, when Al looked at himself in the mirror for the first time. I was also a bit shocked when you compared me to that homunculus, saying that I was just a shapeshifted copy of your brother. I understand that you miss Al. I miss my own older brother, who disappeared in the war. But just because you miss your brother, doesn't mean you can just simply disregard my existence as something of a mere _copy_. Maybe I'm being unfair with you; you've been ripped away from your home, and you're looking for something to remind you of it. Something to connect you with what you've lost." Those hands, calm before, were now shaking again…Those eyes, hollow before, were starting to flare again, with a low, almost quiet flame. "But don't look for something in me that isn't there. I'm not Alphonse."

At that moment…

Edward felt his mind and heart go numb.

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

It was hard to say what he was feeling. His head was hurting, his stomach was lurching, and all Alfons could do to keep himself from throwing up was to keep his eyes on Edward, and keep his breathing steady. If he looked away, it was certain that he would have felt sick and thrown up.

But he felt sick as it was, looking at Edward like this. Watching that 'punched in the gut' expression on his face with those golden orbs staring at him in such a way that asked him exactly what he had done to deserve such a low blow.

Though in the same breath, what had _Alfons _done to deserve such blatant disregard? He had dreams about his little brother, and was willing to tell Edward about them to give him some peace of mind, to maybe worry just a little bit less as Alfons tried to piece together just what the hell was going on here, and yet Edward was saying that he didn't exist…That he was a copy…a _Doppelganger_…

_Though I'm not dead yet. It's funny that something like this could disprove such a commonly-known legend so easily…_

"Alfons, I…"

"It's fine." Alfons couldn't keep the trembling out of his voice. "It's _fine_, Edward. You want to go home to your brother. And in me, you find the only link to it…but with your logic…"

That look of his, God.

It ate at his heart.

_He told you that you weren't real. _

_**But he's suffering. **_

_But he doesn't care. _

_**But he's in pain. **_

_But he hurt you. _

_**He also is in a situation that is hard to cope with, and it's easy to lose yourself when you're confused. It's easy to be like this when you're scared. Remember when you started having those dreams, years ago. You acted a lot like this, because in a sense…you went through the same thing then that he's going through now. Only you could go home when you woke up. He doesn't even have that luxury.**_

"With your logic, this world is a mere imitation of your own. And with you feeling so alone, you choose to cling to that…but the truth…the truth is different." He had to look away but he couldn't do it, even as Edward, still wide-eyed, only nodded dumbly. "The truth us, we're _both_ real. Al and I are real, and we're different people. We look the same, but we're not the same at all. Much like this world is with yours. It may look similar, but it's not the same."

He had to say something. Something to take that look off of Edward's face. Something to take that damned look off and replace it with that cocky grin, that fake-smile—just _something_.

The last time he saw Edward this shocked was when he had been told that Brigadier General Hughes had died…but then he had quickly erupted into anger. He wasn't like _this_. He couldn't see him like this, didn't want to see him like this.

"Y-yeah." Ed mumbled.

He had to do _something_.

His heart was about to rip itself out.

"Both worlds are real. This isn't just another dream. This isn't purgatory for whatever sins you've committed. This is a reality, just like your home. Think of it like this…"

_Don'tlookatmelikethatEdward__**please**__…_

"This world isn't a reflection of your world...your world isn't a reflection of mine…but rather, they're both reflections of the Gate itself. The worlds are just two possibilities, what could have been. Two possibilities that materialized in the image of the Gate, which in a sense, support each other. Parallel worlds, if you want to call it that."

The dullness had at least gone away from Edward Elric's eyes, a bit. But…

"And your brother's fine. He's able to walk around in his new body, and he can't wait until you get home. He hasn't lost hope that you'll return, and at the rate things are going, I also think that he might be the first to kiss Winry." Alfons tried to chuckle, but it was hard.

Edward's lips twitched a bit.

"So…he's really okay?"

"Your brother is _fine_. Winry's fine. Pinako is fine. As far as I can tell, everyone else is all right as well."

Alfons tried his best to smile. But it was hard.

God, was it hard.

"You'll be with him again, someday. You'll get home."

"Y-yeah…"

"You will. I promise. I'll try to do all I can to help you, as well."

"What the hell, Alfons…Why do you even give a damn? I'm a total stranger."

"I've known you since I was a child, Edward. Though you might not know me, I know you almost as well as my own older brother."

"I hardly count dreams as knowing a person."

"Well even if you do consider it that way, I don't mind helping you."

It was like he did a switcharound. Suddenly _Edward_ was standing, hands on the table, eyes facing forward, fire glowing behind the irises and long hair in his face, in wild disarray. His mouth was in a straight line, eyes lowering…

_What in the—why is my heart beating faster? _

Alfons could also feel his own cheeks warming up.

"Goddamn it, I don't understand you, Alfons. Aren't you pissed at all?! Don't you think of me as an asshole because of the way I've treated you?! Fuck, I called you a _clone_ of my brother and accused you of not existing, and yet here you are offering to help me get home?"

"Why not? You're stranded in a place that's not your own. I may not be able to help much, but I am the only one in this world who has knowledge of yours, so far as I know."

_That, and I don't think I'd be able to escape from you, even if I tried. _

"Don't you see anything wrong with this? I'm just going to leave when I find out how!"

_I know that only too well…_

"Not at all."

Edward clenched his fists. It was amazing that even his prosthetic started to tremble. Was Automail really that advanced? Or was he wearing something different entirely? Oh, how he wished he could investigate it himself, study it himself…

"Dammit, _why_?"

The answer came out before Alfons could think: "Because I don't want to see you suffer anymore, Ed."

_…Wait, what? What was that? _

What had he just said? All he could feel was the thundering of his heart in his ears, and the face of Edward Elric, blushing deeply, staring at him, with the blankest expression of confusion that Alfons Heiderich had ever seen.

What just…

What just happened?


	10. Liar

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

---

_"Because I don't want you to suffer anymore, Ed."_

_"Alfons…I…"_

_"W-Well, you've been through enough, right? It must be hard for you…and you deserve better than what you get. I think Al would agree with me." _

_"I…" _

_"C-Come on, Ed…we need to go back." _

_---_

'Go back' was right. Go back, go into his room, lie down, and _sleep_. Sleep all this away. Sleep that awkward conversation that they had shared and all the questions that seemed to surface in Edward's mind.

Was Alfons real?

Was this world real?

Was what Alfons was telling him the truth?

Alfons had dreams about Al…that much was for certain. He knew him. He knew Al. He knew things that nobody else could know. He took the insanity that was the story of Edward Elric and simplified it, _believed_ it, talking to him like a human being and not as something else. Not as the invalid that most would have referred to him as.

It didn't make any _sense_.

Edward had turned Alfons away. Mistreated him. Told him he was _fake_. He pushed him away and treated him like garbage more times than he could count, and yet Alfons still _smiled_ at him. He had the nerve to look at Edward like that, hands on the table, expression serious…

_"Because I don't want you to suffer anymore, Ed." _

This was ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous. What the hell—Alfons had no right to be good to him, and yet here he was.

He even gave him all the pillows and blankets, rather huddling close on his side.

Wasn't that cold?

Edward himself was feeling hot under that blanket, but there was no way he was going to poke out. Not when his prosthetics were so obvious under his nightclothes—or rather, lack of them.

Alfons rolled over again, letting out a soft sigh and nuzzling the pillow. Well. What little pillow he _had_, anyway. How many pillows did Ed have, anyway?

One, two…three…oh, there's four, by his feet, and there was the one between his knees, but that was to keep his back straight. Then there was the one that was under his head, and…

Oh.

Alfons wasn't kidding when he called him a pillow-hog, was he?

Pillow-hog _and_ blanket-hog…enough so to leave his bedmate freezing next to him in a huddled heap.

Nice, Ed.

_Nice._

What a way to screw him over; first Envy, then a figment of his imagination, then a two-bit copy of his younger brother…and now leave him freezing with hardly any pillow to lay on.

_Alfons…are you really dreaming of Al right now? Is he really okay? Fuck, I'm not sure if I can believe you when you say that you see him…it's all too damn convenient…but it all fits together. There's no other way to describe it. _

It didn't mean that it made it less complicated.

Alfons's chest rose and fell gently with each breath; in through the nose, out through the mouth…Lips slackened, showing the tiniest hint of well-kept teeth, and a pink tongue almost ready to pop out of his mouth and hang out, like panting dog. Cheeks were flushed, even with his lack of heat (for the love of fuck, he was _shivering_!), and his fists were right next to his face, close enough for him to stick his thumb out and start sucking on it…

_What the fuck—I'm staring at him._

Damn it—he was shivering again. Alfons's body let out one hard rack of a shudder, and the man curled into himself tighter, as if to let out the cold that was most certainly attacking him on all sides and angles.

Not like he wasn't already curled into himself to begin with.

_He really looks cold._

But…blanket. Prosthetics. _Hiding them from any unwitting moron that might have walked in the door to see them._

But…

Alfons was freezing.

_Oh, fucking hell._

"Alfons, get up."

He wasn't moving.

Damn it.

Edward found himself sitting up, picking up a few of the pillows from the right side of his pillow fort and moving them towards Alfons, who didn't seem to even budge, save from curling tighter into himself and almost whimpering.

Was he really that cold?

Or maybe he was having a particularly bad dre—

The sick feeling in the pit of Ed's stomach at even the thought of that thought made him cease from that direction entirely, even with the nagging voice trying to urge him back to the spiked pit of catch-22 depression. Him getting into a phase of angst-filled guilt did nothing to help his own dreams, after all.

Besides.

That really did look cold.

…

…He was feeling guilty just looking at the guy. Had he really been shivering like that _every night_ since they started sharing a room?

"mmmm…"

Alfons licked his lips once. Twice.

"Alfons, come on. Don't make me hit you with 'em."

His response was nothing more than another grunt, and Alfons curled into himself tighter. His body was trembling, but it might as well have been downright convulsing, with the amount of attention Edward was paying to every single minute twitch.

…

_Fucking hell._

Edward squirmed out from his fort, cursing the cold air that seemed to barrage on his prosthetics just from him _moving_, and if he was a weaker sort, would have dove back under the covers and stayed there, just like he did every night until the warm rays of morning sun kissed his face. Stayed down there and ignored the shivering man next to him.

But it didn't look like that was going to be an option at this point.

Damn it, it didn't look like Alfons was going to wake up…

Slowly, he took a pillow with one hand, and put his hand under Alfons's head with the other (the flesh one—always the flesh one—the prosthetic always got hair stuck in it—not like the automail)….

Alfons whimpered.

"Wi…"

'Wi'?

Edward blinked.

Talking in his sleep?

"Win…ry."

….!!!!

'Winry'?

Edward's stomach clenched. His palms started to sweat, his heart beat fast…He hardly remembered that his hand was on the back of Alfons's head, as they both started to clench involuntarily…

Though it was debated if Alfons could even _feel_ that.

"Winry…"

Louder this time…

He had to move. Or at least, he should have moved…just turned away, and gone back to sleep. Pretended he didn't notice, and pretended that he didn't have that sick feeling now penetrating his stomach and coursing through his veins.

But…

Alfons's face was contorted slightly…eyes scrunched and mouth turned downwards, halfway between crying and pain, though Edward himself wasn't sure of which. His neck muscles were twitching, cheeks doing the same…

His eyes were squinting, over and over…

"Winry, you…"

What was he—? Were these Alfons's words, or were they Al's? Alfons was talking in his sleep, but if he dreamed of Al, then…

"…Liar."

_Wha—_

"Winry, you liar."

---

**Resembool, 1924**

---

"Winry, you liar."

Those were the first words that came out of his lips when he awoke, the wetness of his past tears still clinging to his cheeks.

His head was still hurting, even though he wasn't quite sure when it started, and how he knew that it had been in pain for longer than just a few minutes, or even a few seconds. Pounding—from the back of his head to the front, making a nest in his frontal lobe and whacking at his skull with a sledgehammer…or maybe he was just being whacked with one from the outside, too. Who knew? His stomach was in knots and his mouth was quivering…hands twitching on the top of the blankets.

---

"_Yeah. When I was a kid, Alphonse Elric was in a large suit of armor—he couldn't feel anything, and when I dreamt, I couldn't feel anything either. It was in a sort of numb cocoon…things were…sensed, rather than felt. And his field of vision was well…different. It was like standing outside of someone's body, but still being inside—I'm not really good with words, so it's hard to explain exactly how to say it without calling it between something. Like you're in the body, but you can see outside the steel, though you yourself can see from the steel. The vantage point was also in the chest, not the head, because that was where his center was…the blood seal…"_

---

Blood seal…? Was that what that mark was? Right above his right breast, tattooed onto the skin…a circle, with something like an alchemic star inside. A transmutation circle, but for _what_, he had never been able to figure out.

He hadn't really noticed it until the very first time he was able to dress himself, really…a bit of a shock, what with his past knowledge of his body smacking him in the face and telling him straight-up that he never had that on him. One moment he was taking off his shirt, and…

There it was.

But what _was_ it?

A birthmark?

A scar?

Something else that he was overlooking?

Al looked down towards the bed with a soft sigh.

According to the information he had just received, and everything else that was going through his mind, and happening around him…

That mark _did _have something to do with what had happened before. That time when he was armor, and when he and his brother were traveling together.

---

_"Winry? What's this mark on my chest mean?" _

_He should have realized that the smile she was giving him was forced, fake. But all he could do was bask in the warmth of it, and listen to the lilt of her voice: _

_"What are you talking about, Al? You've always had that." _

_---_

He was so stupid. He should have looked into it more. Maybe snuck into the basement and grabbed Brother's old journals—the ones that Auntie had locked away in that chest with his old coat. There were some crowbars in the supply shed; sure, he'd have gotten yelled at for breaking the chest open, but he'd have at least had some clue as to figure out what in the world it was. He may have even learned this information sooner, instead of relying on 'him', Alfons, to tell him unwittingly, while trying to convince his idiot for a brother that there was more to where he was than just a hell or a nightmare conjured up out of his own crazy imagination.

Imagination.

Al wished that _this_ was just his imagination.

These dreams, this information, his brother gone, Winry lying, Alfons's existence…Al nearly had a heart attack when he first saw Alfons without a shirt, looking down at himself with a sort of morbid shock and fascination…

What an imagination he had, though it was becoming increasingly evident that this wasn't imagination at all, but something else…the reality of which grasped him by the stomach with both hands, squeezing and squeezing while completely unwilling to let go.

_Brother…would you want me to know this? Or would you have treated me the same way…? Would you have wanted me not to know, too? _

His brother would have wanted him to know the truth. He had to have. To keep something like this from someone…

_But if I was armor…and I'm now human…what happened to Brother? He's…where he is. But why is he there? How'd I get human again? Alfons mentioned something about a man named 'Scar', about a city called Lior…Kimbley…I became a bomb…_

None of it made sense.

If he became a bomb, and then that red light enveloped him…what happened after that? One moment he was in this…Lior place, and then…the last thing Alfons and himself remember was him waking up in that strange auditorium…with Rose.

There had to have been a transition…

Transition from when, to when?

_---_

_"So you dreamed about Al…and the last dream you had before you started dreaming about him in a flesh body was during Lior."_

---

His brother made it sound like he was skeptical, or that something important had happened _after_ that. Or even both.

What _had_ happened?

---

_"__But Alchemy doesn't __**exist**__ on this side! It's not even probable for your consciousness to go beyond the gate into Al's body. And for you to start dreaming about him right when Al got stuck into the armor…That…just…the souls of the dead on this side are what power Alchemy on the other, so for you to go beyond the gate into Al's body while dreaming doesn't make any sense. The only way a soul can transcend the Gate is if they die, and even then they're only used as energy for a transmutation."_

---

Beyond the gate, and into the body of another. There was a Gate back then, wasn't there? He couldn't remember—his head was throbbing too much and his stomach was ready to come out of his mouth in thick, wet retches on the floor.

But if that was true, then…

So many questions.

With one answer, came the start of too many questions…

---

_"That I'm what, Edward?"_

_"That you could be the Al of this world."_

---

Was Alfons himself? No. He was his own sentient being. They looked the same, but everything about them was wrong. Alfons took more than Al ever would, and there were too many glaring differences…hair, eyes…

---

_"This world isn't a reflection of your world...your world isn't a reflection of mine…but rather, they're both reflections of the Gate itself. The worlds are just two possibilities, what could have been. Two possibilities that materialized in the image of the Gate, which in a sense, support each other. Parallel worlds, if you want to call it that."_

---

Parallel worlds…

But if that was the case, how did his brother…?

It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it _hurt_.

It hurt to think, it hurt to breathe, his head hurt, his body hurt, his heart hurt…

It hurt to think of how his brother got there. It hurt to think about how he became human again from that armor. It hurt to think about Alfons, and their connection. It hurt to think about Winry, and how much she actually knew of all this, and why she didn't bother telling him.

Why Auntie hadn't told him.

Why Teacher hadn't told him.

Why nobody else had thought to even give him an inkling of a clue as to what happened to him…why his body was so weak, why he was having so much trouble walking, why he couldn't speak, why he could hardly write without his hand twitching, and why he was the jarbled mess that he was right now. Even if it was hard to take, even if it was impossible for him to deal with, wouldn't it have been better if he knew, instead of never knowing at all?

They had lied to him.

All of them had.

That was why they kept giving him those looks. That was why they were all so particularly nice to him…that was why they treated him the way they did.

Because of the fact that he was armor…probably from when he had tried to transmute his mother.

He couldn't…he couldn't stand it.

If he saw another one of those pitying looks, he knew he would snap.

Especially after all _this_…

Al's fists were still clenched as he crawled out of bed, not even bothering to make the thing as he stumbled, wobbling, out of the room.

---

**Resembool, 1924**

---

Al stumbled down the stairs more than usual as he descended, earning a surprised gasp from Winry as she sat down at the breakfast table, as per usual. He could hear her footsteps thud up the stairs quickly towards him, and he didn't even bother moving as she took him by the arm, leading him down. The flush was still on his cheeks, and he could still feel his heart flutter from the warm-hot touch to his skin, but his mind was swirling so fast it was hard for him to enjoy that contact, even for the two and a half minutes that it lasted.

"…honestly, Al, if you needed help getting down, you should have told me! I would have helped you, you know that!"

Al said nothing, simply letting Winry guide him to his seat, even helping him in as he almost missed the thing twice.

Stupid body. Was this really what it was like to get used to a body again after not having one for so long? It…

Al wasn't sure exactly how to describe it.

"I don't want to bother you, Winry…" Al managed to say, even when Winry took her own seat near him. "You and Auntie already do so much for me."

That pained look on her face…

Guilt?

Al felt his stomach twist, despite himself.

He had to tell her.

He had to tell her, but…

_That look._

It already made everything harder to bear…

---

**Resembool, 1924**

---

_**Name: Winry Rockbell**_

_**Age: 16**_

_**Nationality: Amestrian**_

_**Occupation: Automail Mechanic**_

---

It had been less than a year from the day that Ed disappeared, and Al returned. Over four months, actually, though Winry wouldn't tell anyone that she was keeping count. Granny had already told her that it was hopeless to look out the window, to wait and pine for someone who was definitely not going to come home.

"He had already made his choice," she would say, not even flicking a gaze up in her direction. "Now get away from that window or you're going to become a part of it."

But still her eyes would glance out the open window when they least expected them to, almost praying for that certain figure to go over the hill, sauntering towards the door mumbling something about broken automail and a stupid colonel. He'd fling the door open, growl, and her wrench would make hard contact with his head, and everything would be back to normal.

Normal.

It hadn't even been one bit of normal since he had left. Alphonse had come back, flesh and blood…but it was all _wrong_. His body was too small, his eyes were too large, too innocent. They were just like the Al that she had grown past all those years ago—the Al before he had decided to do something as crazy as try to bring back his mother. The Al when he was still innocent, before he had seen those horrible things with his brother.

The Al when he still cried over watching caterpillars die, took care of kittens behind everyone's backs, and was the first to be over when Den was sick. He hovered over that dog more than he hovered over _people_…

But he was supposed to be taller than her. He had been taller than her before…taller than her _and_ Edward. He would often say that he would soon grow so tall that he'd be able to jump into the atmosphere and pull stars down for her—well. When he was younger, anyway. Once he got started with Alchemy he lost some of that childish imagination, though not as much as Edward did. Al always had the will to dream, and to look at things even if they weren't scientific.

But Edward. Edward was tough, Edward was strong. Even if nobody knew what to do, he'd think of something quickly, solving the problem sometimes with just sheer dumb luck.

When they couldn't find their way down the normal trodden path, Edward would just come and make a new one for them. For her and Al both.

What would he do, if he was her?

Would he be doing the same thing that she was now?

Al had lost all of his memories of those days—just moving in his new body was impossible, and it took months just for him to start walking normally without help, though even now he still had a wobble to his step and the tiniest quiver to his voice. He had tried training once, like he had most likely done with Edward and Miss Izumi, but he just ended up falling on his face on the ground. He tried several times to stand…trying again and again, but failing each time as his legs buckled under him. Near the end, he ended up crying with frustration, ready to start wailing when he realized that his legs had stopped working under his own weight.

Winry and Granny had banned him from training after that. At least not until he got used to his body enough to pick himself back up…

It was painful to watch.

It was painful to watch _him_. He would wobble down the stairs, day after day, and he would fight off her attempts to help him, even though she desperately wanted to. He would simply smile, shake his head and go down the stairs, sitting down like nothing was wrong.

But everything was wrong.

This situation…the way everything was going.

Alphonse was supposed to be human again, and the _right age_, damn it. And Edward was supposed to be there too, and then they would laugh just like they used to. Or at least, that was what she had hoped for. But reality was always more depressing than fantasy and she _knew_ that. She had wanted Alphonse to suddenly peek out of his armor and say "Fooled ya!" more times than she could have counted back then. Just so she could hit him hard on the head and he'd feel it. So he'd cry. So she'd see his smile when he smiled at her, even though it was always evident in his voice, even when he did.

What would have happened, though…if she had gone and stopped them? If back then, she—

_There was nothing you could have done about it. They wouldn't let you in—they didn't trust you enough to even get you inside their secret crazy plan…probably because they knew you'd try to stop them. Because they knew that you'd tell them it was crazy…_

Again, when there was no path for them, Edward _made_ a path, just like that. For better or for worse, he always knew what to do.

He would have always done what was best for Al…

And that was what she was doing, right?

---

_"Al! Don't keep doing this! You'll get hurt! You don't have to push yourself so hard!" _

_"I do though, Winry. If I don't walk now, how am I ever going to find Brother and bring him back home?"_

_"Al, don't be ridiculous! Ed's—"_

_"Going to come back home to us one day, Winry. Trust me. He'll come home. If not now, if not a few years from now, he'll come home. I know it." _

_---_

She hated to be a pessimist, but she knew Ed wasn't coming back. With the way he disappeared, with the way Al had come back…it would take a near-damn miracle in order for him to come back in once piece. Even an Edward Elric miracle couldn't get him out of this with only broken automail and a lopsided grin.

But everytime Al said it with such finality, it almost made her believe in it too.

And whenever he looked at her with that searching smile, trying to tell her that his brother was okay (she could somehow believe that, in the 'lack-of-common-sense-world-of-dumb-luck' that Edward Elric seemed to make himself quite at home in on a daily basis), her heart almost became undone. She would want to hold him and cry—cry and cry and cry…

---

_"I can't cry!" she wailed, hugging her knees tighter, trying to avoid the worry in his eyes…_

_"Winry?" _

_His voice was gentle, even when he was a child, he somehow knew how to calm her—_

_If she was older and wiser, she would have known better than to look up into those eyes of his, which were looking at her with such warmth. How could he do it? Just a little boy, and he always knew how to look at her, or even how to smile, to make her tears dry—_

_"What?" Winry found herself snapping, trying to ignore the blush on her cheeks, or the irritation in her gut at how such a simple look could calm her down, much more than her Mom or Dad could ever do it…_

"_I'd cry too." _

---

And when he'd ask about what happened to him, she had to work harder to prevent herself from sobbing.

"What is this mark on my body?"

"Who's that armor in the picture?"

"Why are you so happy to see me eat something?"

"Why don't you think that Brother will ever come back?"

Questions, questions…so many questions…

He most likely already had a good idea that something was off with her, too. He had asked her questions enough, and had probably seen her eyes. She couldn't help it—whenever his innocent voice would rise to that questioning pitch she knew so well, asking those difficult questions that nobody else around them was even willing to try to answer…

Was she doing the right thing?

She kept asking herself this, everytime he would look at her.

If she kept him from this, then he would grow up happy—or so that was what she wanted to think.

But…

---

_"Winry…you know it's bad to lie, right?" Al asked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. _

Winry sighed, huffing a bit as she turned away. "Al, I'm not lying to Gramma! I'm just…" 

_Al stuck out his lip stubbornly, crossing his arms. "You're __**lying**__. Lying isn't right." _

---

…

She had to tell him.

She couldn't keep looking into that searching face anymore, her heart would twist and her stomach would turn—

"Al! What are you doing?! Honestly, Al, if you needed help getting down, you should have told me! I would have helped you, you know that!"

--She had to say something. Anything.

He was sitting down at the table now, accepting her help with an almost defeated look…one that only made her heart crumble and her eyes start to widen.

"Al…"

"Yes…?" He asked. But why was his voice so…hollow?

"Are you all right?"

As he looked up at her, she thought she saw his eyes brighten somewhat.

---

**Resembool, 1924**

---

"I'm…all right." Al had to cringe mentally at the lie he was already sending to her. But what was the use? She had already lied to him. Why did he feel the need to lie to her back, as if in some strange way it would make her feel better?

That worried look she was giving him wasn't helping.

"You don't look all right, Al."

He sighed.

"Sorry…"

"Why are you apologizing?"

Al sighed again.

"Sorry…"

"Al, why are you apologizing? What did you do wrong?"

What did he do wrong? The only word he could think of was 'sorry', and that wasn't even the word he wanted to say to her.

Why was he apologizing?

For being lied to?

For being kept from the truth, no matter how much he asked, pleaded, and begged for it to be given to him? No matter how much he tried to find anything out, there would be snags, roadblocks…he could never find his way through anything and yet somehow that was his fault?

Wasn't that something she was supposed to apologize for?

…somehow, Alphonse didn't think that that was the true meaning of his words.

But what else could…

Winry's eyes lowered towards the table, long hair obscuring her face even with the sunlight shining on it, making her skin and hair almost glow. Al couldn't see her expression, though somehow he wished he could…

"I…"

He stopped.

Winry let out a soft breath—her hair wisped forward, but still no sign of any real facial feature that his eyes could really focus on.

"Al…actually…to be honest…I should be the one apologizing to you."

---

**Resembool, 1923**

---

"Winry…?"

Winry didn't know whether or not to feel relieved at Alphonse's dazed, curious pronunciation of her name, and she ignored the sudden shiver that threatened to go down her spine at the sound.

She ignored the feelings welling up in her chest, and she swallowed hard.

"Al…I haven't exactly been honest with you, and I'm sorry. I should have been…but…"

She could do this. So long as she kept her gaze away from him and down towards the floor, she could do it.

"There's a lot that we haven't told you. I honestly don't know everything about what happened myself, but I feel that I should have told you about what had happened from the start, but I didn't. And I'm sorry."

"…"

"If you want, we can talk outside, or wherever you're comfortable."

"…"

"It's"

"Winry. It's okay."

The sound of a chair pulling out caught her attention, and Winry Rockbell's face snapped up, only to see Alphonse Elric on his feet, hands tense at his sides…

His smile was the smile of a boy who wasn't really smiling at all.

"Al…?"

"I already know."

Already knew? But how?

"Al…how did you…"

"It doesn't matter anymore, Winry." That edge. She had heard it once—it was in a hospital, his brother sitting in the hospital bed and a suit of armor, hulking over him…worst birthday ever for Ed, she was sure… "If you really wanted to tell me, you would have sooner."

Wait, no. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Al's smile didn't look like a smile as it was, but it was now fading right in front of her face…fading hard and fast and turning into something else…something in the guise of a smile but…

"That's not true. I really did want to tell you…I just…"

"Wanted 'what was best for me', right?"

Ouch. Just the sound of his voice seemed to cut…she was wondering if she could feel the blood trailing down her skin.

But something didn't feel right. Was this _Al_? The steely eyes, the fist she now saw clenched at his side, shaking…

"Al…you've gone through so much…isn't it important that you live normally…at least for a while? You're young yet…you don't have to figure everything out right now…"

She could feel the tears start to prickle her eyes. Prickle hard and want to fall down, but they were hovering on the edge, not quite there enough to fall down…but…

This wasn't fair.

He wasn't being fair to her, damn it…

"…young? I'm supposed to be one year younger than you, Winry. I'm not still 'young'."

"But"

"My body doesn't have anything to do with this," Al snapped. "You didn't want to tell me because you didn't know how. You don't think my brother will come back because you think something happened to him…I know something happened to him when I made the transfer from armor to a human body. I see him when I _sleep_, Winry. He's somewhere else. He's not here, and he's with someone who's just like me. Looks like me, has the same name, but we're nothing alike at all. I know that my brother's out there somewhere, and that there's more to me than I'm being told, and yet everyone at home, who I should _trust_…they all tell me lies."

"Lies?"

_Is that all you think of me? _

Winry took a step forward. Her stomach was in knots; swishing back and forth in her gut with enough force to knock her flat. There was something familiar bubbling in her chest, something she remembered and recognized, but couldn't really pinpoint, going up her chest, up her throat…almost burning in her mouth—

Now what was that?

"Al, what are you talking about? _Listen_ to yourself!"

Ah, yes.

Anger.

Good old fashioned anger.

It didn't seem to knock Al aback, though; in fact, it seemed to make him take a step forward.

He said nothing, however.

"Lies? You think that's all we do? Al, like it or not, we didn't tell you because we didn't know how you'd react to the news if we'd said something! I admit it wasn't right to lie to you, but at the time we didn't know what else to do!"

"You could've—"

"Are you sure you would have agreed to that?! Your brother's missing, you're in a younger body, you're still getting used to said body, and we're trying our best to make sure you _adapt_ to it, and you accuse us of not being trustworthy?!"

"But I heard"

"Heard?! Al, you're seeing your brother in a _dream_, and you believe that those are real! I know you miss your brother, but listen to yourself! Maybe"

"But he told me, Winry! Alfons told Brother about the armor! Brother thinks this world he's in is just a dream—a nightmare—if we figure out how to go to the other side, we can help him"

"There's nobody to help, Al! If Ed's still here, he's probably running around somewhere trying to find you…IN. THIS. WORLD. Not in some magical realm conjured up by your imagination!"

"It's not my imagination, Winry! I saw him! I saw both of them! Alfons looks just like me, but isn't me! He's me on the other side of the Gate, and I can see the world from his dreams! He's trying to help Brother go to the other side…"

"Al…that's…"

"Maybe this really is all true, but you're just not telling me. Maybe all you're doing is lying to me again…"

Again?

Winry held her breath. Tried to count to ten. Tried to think…tried to calm down the feelings bubbling in her gut. The hurt, the frustration, the irritation…She swallowed hard, and tried to even out her voice as she spoke again:

"You think we're untrustworthy. You think we were keeping things from you. You think that we're doing so much to hurt you, but Al, who are the ones taking care of you? Who are the ones keeping a roof over your head, and keeping you fed? If we didn't care, we wouldn't be doing this, and you know it."

Calmness would work. Calmness and reason always worked for Al. Not necessarily for Ed, but for Al it had always been the right answer…the right way to do things…

But…

Al was now turned fully towards her, fists clenched, eyes lowered…His silver eyes weren't just steely now, but flaring…blazing…looking at him now, it was like he had inherited much more from his older brother than even she was willing to admit. She ignored the flutter in her chest and focused on the angry feelings, swirling again and again in her stomach, rising to her throat and down to her stomach again. Up and down, up and down…

So much for calmness and reason working to calm Al down.

"I NEVER ASKED YOU TO!" The younger boy yelled. "It's not like I wanted you to take care of me! You look at me with such pity, telling me that you want to take care of me and you want to make sure that I'm all right…you say that you want to do things for me, but are you really?! Winry, you…you just want to see Brother again, don't you? It isn't about me…it was never about me…"

If it wasn't for the sadness in Al's eyes, the bit of despair that sat there behind the fury…

If it wasn't for that, Winry would have done more than just slap him.


	11. False Hope

_---_

_**Resembool, 1914**_

_**Alphonse Elric: 5**_

_**Winry Rockbell: 6**_

_---_

_She was the only one who understood. Even when his brother didn't, even when his Mom didn't, she would, offering him kind words and even a helping hand during the most difficult of times, even when his brother couldn't even find him. _

_His brother had always thought that he would run to the river. And he would, eventually. It may have taken some time, but his feet would move towards there, with a heavy heart and the notion clear in his mind that any further argument at this point would be won by the elder brother, even though on the surface all battles were won by the younger. He would head there and sit, staring at the water…_

_Just staring there for all the time it took for Edward to go and get the nerve to go and find him, when his pride was properly squelched and he felt it wasn't completely necessary now to sit in the corner stubborn and sulking. Now that he had gotten over the embarrassment of being beaten up by his younger (and taller) brother, he could bring that macho feeling back in his system, and then walk back acting like he was still the tough, strong older brother. _

_And Edward was. _

_He always, always was. _

_He was the one who Al could depend on, and could stick with. His brother was, even though he never won a fight, stronger than anyone else, and could do things so much better than everyone else because he was his brother. _

_…_

_And yet here Al was, in the same old place, hiding while he got his own thoughts organized and sorted through. The forest was quiet enough, but far away from the house to the point where if his brother or mother caught him, he'd be done for.  
_

_"Don't go into the forest," they'd always say, "Wild animals will be there." _

_But it wasn't dangerous—it was quiet, and it always gave him the peace he needed to think things through—those things that the river itself didn't do for him, which was always his last stop. The bugs would chirp in the trees around him, the birds would flutter around…sometimes he'd hear a stray cat mewing in the distance, or a dog, somewhere in there, barking at something-or-other. _

_It was his place. _

_His place to think where nobody would really know where he was…_

_"Stupid Brother." Al kicked a rock under his foot, glaring down at the dirt. "Stupid, stupid, stupid Brother." _

_Stupid Brother, indeed, even though it was him who had won the fight that resulted from the silly argument in the first place. What had that even been over…? Something about them and the logs out in the back, even though neither of them were able to carry any. They had wanted to prevent their mother from carrying them, so they were going to carry them for her. But childish pride fought back and the two of them ended up arguing a storm, which then resulted in the usual fistfight…_

_The usual fistfight ended with Edward running one way, Alphonse running the other, and then the two of them separated and miserable for a good span of a few hours. _

_It was obvious that his mother was probably wondering where he was. Maybe Auntie Pinako, too. His brother assumed he was at the river again, but if he had suddenly managed to go there to see if her was, in fact, there…_

_No. _

_His brother took longer than he did to get his mind together, and even then it took some time to fight the usual Elric pride down to just get up and confront whatever argument it was that he needed to confront. As great as his brother was, it was like clockwork…a never ending cycle. _

_He was safe for now. _

_…_

_"…Al?"_

_…_

_Safe detection from anyone else besides her, anyway. _

_He should have expected that Winry would show up eventually—like his brother's ego, it was like clockwork, though Alphonse didn't mind that one bit. Even in the dim light going through the trees, he could see her blonde hair and pink dress easily, hear the sandals crunch on the leaves as she moved towards him. _

_…How many times would she risk getting in trouble, just to seek him out at times like these? _

_"I'm here, Winry." _

_It wasn't like he needed to say anything; it was more of a formality than anything else, even as the girl stepped over the large root and took a seat next to him. _

_Auntie Pinako would surely wonder at the dirt on the bottom of her dress, though the girl had never mentioned anything about getting in trouble, or getting caught, or her even getting suspicious. She'd simply follow him whenever she heard the booms of argument rising from the Elric house. _

_…_

_It was funny how it always turned out like this. _

_"What was it this time?" _

_"Wood-chopping." _

_"That's it? That's pretty dumb." _

_"Yeah, it is…" _

_…_

_Dumb. Yeah, it was dumb, all right. He had battered his brother pretty good, too…he knew that there was at least some hair-pulling and some kicks to the stomach…_

_The Al of later in life would look back on this fight and laugh, saying that it reminded him of a couple of girls arguing over which doll had the better dress (only to cause Ed to snort, turning away with a bit of disgust)…but now, in this time, Al had thought he fought the pretty good fight. His brother was no pushover, after all (kicks to the groin and arm pulling notwithstanding), and the bruises to his face actually hurt a bit (even with Ed's flailing punches). _

_"Why do you two keep fighting over dumb things like this? You're brothers, right? Shouldn't you be getting along more than arguing?" _

_"You don't understand." Al hugged his knees to his chest. "You're an only child. You don't know what it's like to have a brother." _

_"…that still doesn't mean that it's not stupid. You and Ed are always together…and just as much as you get along, you fight." _

_"Brothers do that, I guess…" _

_"…"_

_"Well…at least…that's what we do. Maybe we're weird brothers, huh?"_

_'Weird'? They weren't weird. They fought like brothers, played like brothers, acted like brothers, and even lived like brothers. A much older Al would have slapped himself for the stupidity of what he had just said, but the younger Al felt a little bit of insecurity creep up inside him, hearing Winry's words. _

_"I don't think you're weird at all. You and Ed fight a lot, but you wouldn't be you two if you didn't…" _

_Al sat silent for a moment, simply staring down at his feet. _

_"You…think so?" _

_"Uh-huh." _

_…._

_……._

_"So um…" Winry tapped her foot on top of the ground, her blue eyes turning away from him. "…are you two going to make up?" _

_"…Yeah." _

_"Then you should. You can't just sit around forever, y'know. I'll go with you." _

_And she always did. Just like that. _

_How was it that with those words, he had always felt like she understood the most, even if she was saying something so simple or generic? Even if she was saying something that anyone else would have said, she was still the one who understood him, knew where to find him, knew how to talk to him…_

_It was puzzling, but somehow still, Alphonse Elric looked up and smiled, nodding…_

_"Yeah…I should." _

_She had always understood…somehow, Alphonse Elric had always thought that. _

_He never understood why, though. _

---

**Resembool, 1924**

---

…it was like clockwork.

It was then, and it was now.

Even after all these years (even the ones he couldn't remember), he'd still run here. The nearby pond's water flowed in his ears, despite how deep inside he was in the depths of the place. The sun was still bright through the canopy through the trees…neverending green in front and behind him, with sticks and stones dotting the path like makeshift chairs, tables, and maybe even a shelter, if he arranged them right to keep the rain from hitting him.

That's what he had done when he was on Yock Island, back when he had his brother, and back when everything was at least somewhat 'normal'.

…

As normal as a pair of kids trying to revive their mother using forbidden Alchemy could have been, anyway.

He hadn't had to run here ever since he had come back to Resembool…after Rose found him (speaking of Rose, where was she? He hadn't seen her since he had come back here, and then she disappeared off the face of the planet, it seemed). He'd had to think many times, but since he'd come home, he'd never had to just flat-out run away, and hide from everything, while his mind delved on the 'what's, 'where's and 'why's.

The shadows somehow made him think like he was invisible. Even though he knew that he wasn't, rather just a brown-haired kid sitting among the leaves like a cowering wild animal, trying to get away from the predatory wildcat which would most certainly eat him. But when the light pooled in front of him, keeping him out of the direct shine as he curled up in the shadowy areas…

The childish part of his brain always kicked in.

The childish part that told him that nobody could see him, and that if he stayed still enough, and stayed quiet enough, and huddled into himself enough, nobody would see him, and maybe he'd just curl into himself so much that he'd disappear.

During the course of his stumbling run to his retreat (more like limp, with his legs not wanting to agree with him, stumps they seemed to be these days), the thoughts kept running through his head:

_When I was in that armor, did I run away like this too? Or was I a bit more mature than this? Did I want to curl in myself then too, wanting to disappear? _

He didn't doubt that he'd at least done it once.

Run away like a childish coward.

…

Every fight had started this way though…first the initial fight itself, then he'd run here, hide, and think things through before getting coerced to go and think it through much further at the river, preparing himself for the inevitable clash between him and whoever-it-was that he had fought with in the first place…

Of course, the only one who came here to coerce him was Winry.

And Winry was the one he had fought with.

…

She wasn't here yet.

…

What went wrong?

---

_"Winry, you…you just want to see Brother again, don't you? It isn't about me…it was never about me…"_

_---_

…Why had he said that? All those things, back there…they hit his head hard like a bad dream, slamming in the side of his skull and sending jolts of pain to sometimes come in their wake.

Just wanted to see Brother?

Didn't _he_ want to see his brother, too?

She had lied to him. He had every right to be angry about that. She had hidden the truth from him, just like everyone else had, and then she had admitted it, and apologized.

That, the rational side of his brain told him, should have been the end of the argument. That should have been where he accepted her apology and moved on, asking her all the questions that he could, soaking up the information like a sponge and answering all the questions that had been plaguing his mind. That might not have been what his brother would have done, but it was something that _he_ would have done. She had admitted she was wrong, and was willing to tell the truth.

But like a child, he didn't act.

He reacted. Like his brother, just like his brother.

Everyone was waiting for him, and everyone wanted to see him again. It was true that Al was the last person that everyone wanted to see—seeing him reminded them of his brother, and brought the old pain back, he was sure—but at the same time, Winry was finally starting to notice him for who he was. She was starting to turn away from the window just a little bit, starting to lighten her spirits, just a little bit. She was starting to bring her laugh back, her smile back. The old Winry wasn't even close to back yet, but she was starting to return…if not just a little…

She was just starting to _talk_ to him again.

And then he had to say _that_.

Stupid, stupid Alphonse.

Even if his brother was the one everyone noticed, he was gone and trying to find his way home. Alfons was even willing to help. He was out there somewhere, out there and alone, and all he could do was whine and complain about something as pointless as this.

…He had hurt Winry, too. Even when she slapped him, he could see the pain in her eyes.

What was he doing? Why did he do that?

Why did he even go on and _say_ that?

…

He hugged his knees to his chest, trying to force the tears in. After all of this, he wasn't going to cry _again_. He yells at Winry, he starts whining about his brother, and then his tears want to go down and make him cry?

His brother would be ashamed, if he saw him.

He was already ashamed of himself.

Ashamed and feeling sorry for himself like a little baby. His brother would laugh maybe, seeing him like this. Even if he cried a lot, he was still the mature one, after all…

---

_"You'll be with him again, someday. You'll get home." _

_"Y-yeah…"_

_"You will. I promise. I'll try to do all I can to help you, as well." _

_"What the hell, Alfons…Why do you even give a damn? I'm a total stranger." _

_"I've known you since I was a child, Edward. Though you might not know me, I know you almost as well as my own older brother."_

_---_

…

His brother was really looking for him, wasn't he…

He really wanted to go home, didn't he…

He wasn't like Dad. Dad never came home. He just left them there, and he had always hoped and wished that he would come home, but he never showed up again. Ever. But his brother was going to come home. Or at least, he was going to try to come home.

…Well, that was what the dreams said.

---

"_Heard?! Al, you're seeing your brother in a dream, and you believe that those are real! I know you miss your brother, but listen to yourself!"_

---

Winry seemed so sure that they weren't real. But they had told him his memories. Alfons had told him his memories…at least to an extent. He said he 'knew' him. He mentioned things that he couldn't remember, and not in vivid detail.

If it was just a way to get him to remember his memories…wouldn't that…wouldn't that be more visual? Or at least, it would be more than just that, right? And that world…

Those weren't dreams. He knew they weren't just dreams. There had to be more to it. More that he just wasn't picking up on.

"You're…real, right? Alfons? You really talk to my brother, right? He's really going to be coming home?"

…This was ridiculous. He couldn't hear him. Even if he did see him in his dreams…it wasn't like he could respond.

But somehow…the words fell from his lips, hands trembling against his knees, still close to his chest.

It wasn't like he could hear him…but asking…asking somehow made the tears push themselves back, back into his eyes and away from the back of his eyelids for now, only leaving a small residue of tearstain under his eyelashes. Somehow his heart felt a little lighter, and his body felt a little more willing to move.

As if asking made all the difference in the world, even though it really didn't.

"I…miss my brother a lot. You miss yours too, don't you? He was probably like my brother, huh? Maybe. We're not the same—so my brother and your brother probably wouldn't be the same either. I'm sure he looks sort of like my brother, though…"

He paused…

Then chuckled, dryly.

"Yeah…yeah right. Even if they looked alike…they wouldn't be the same. Your brother probably doesn't look like mine anyway. You look like me, but if your brother looked like mine…that would be too much of a coincidence, right?"

He heard nothing as a response. Only the wind answered him, tousling his hair a tiny bit.

…

"I wonder…if anybody believed you, when you dreamed? Winry doesn't believe me. She doesn't think Brother's coming home. She doesn't think you're real, either. But you're real, right? I mean…you have to be. I don't know how, but…"

Somehow…

"I can't explain it. But I know that Brother's with you. And that you'll bring him home."

---

_"There's nobody to help, Al! If Ed's still here, he's probably running around somewhere trying to find you…IN. THIS. WORLD. Not in some magical realm conjured up by your imagination!" _

_---_

She was wrong. His brother would be home.

His brother would be home, and then everyone would be happy again. Auntie Pinako and Winry's faces would light up again, and then their lives would be brighter.

…Right?

Or maybe they'd brighten over time, like they were now? Winry didn't seem to be as upset to see him anymore, anyway.

But…

"Alfons…do you remember a lot from when I was armor? What was I like? What happened? I…don't know what to do."

---

_"Winry, you…you just want to see Brother again, don't you? It isn't about me…it was never about me…"_

---

If it was just about him, then she wouldn't have told him that they were lying. Wouldn't have stepped up and said something…

But…

If Edward was home, would it have been like this…?

Probably not.

But something had to have happened in order for him to disappear. He was in armor…and now he was like this? Winry was older…

He'd ask her.

He'd ask her what she knew…

After he apologized for what he said.

He'd say that he didn't mean it, that he was sorry. Even if it was true that they all waited for him, Al was waiting too. It wasn't right to be upset with them for waiting just as much as he was.

But…

They…

Alphonse found himself standing before he could even think, almost tripping over the tree branch as he got to his feet.

She would be waiting there…right?

---

**Resembool, 1924**

---

It was always this place. He always went here, when his mind was clearer and his heart lighter, his mind ready to make up after the initial fight that had sent him dashing in the forest in the first place. He'd always stare in the water with a melancholy expression, but…

That was then. When he feared more fighting. His brother was a radical, after all. One never knew what they would do with him. Edward would stand up and maybe even continue the argument, glaring at him with his pride back in place, fists at his sides and anger present on his face and in his eyes…

But then at the same time…

There were times when he would look at him with a nonchalant expression, but his eyes were gentle…

That was his brother though. The infinite wild card.

But this was Winry. This had to make it easier…right?

He couldn't see her, the river stretching out in front of him at a fair distance…nothing but plains and houses beyond it, simply alone.

Alone.

No, no. She'd be here. His brother always was, so why wouldn't she?

She knew where he'd be, anyway…Even if she didn't show up in the forest…

She'd be here. He knew she would.

Even if she wasn't here right now…

He tripped as he reached the river, almost falling in as he slammed his hands down for support to catch himself. It would have been a bad idea if he fell in, especially since with his body, he couldn't swim…

…

Alphonse Elric, the one who could always beat his brother, falling down like a little kid.

Well, he _was_ a little kid, technically.

But…

"You really need to be more careful, Al. You coulda fallen in."

Al's body would have stiffened thirty minutes ago at the lilting sound of Winry's voice, but instead he felt his heart beat fast, just like it would have at any other day, when their relationship was 'normal' and they weren't fighting. He remembered when she was still a kid…her voice was higher pitched…

But it changed now. It was much lower. Much more mature.

Where had all the years gone?

"…At least, that's what Ed would have said, huh?"

Al blinked, looking up and watching the girl—woman, now, _woman_—as she gave him a sad smile and took a seat next to him, on her knees, on the ground.

"No…" Al found himself saying, swallowing a bit, "I don't think so. Brother's grown up a bit since we both last saw him, I think…"

A small, soft sigh.

"…you mean you're still on that, Al?"

"…yeah."

Another sigh.

"You know he's not coming back. He's gone, Al. We only have ourselves to rely on now."

She was wrong. He knew he was alive somewhere, just…

Just not _here_. Or anywhere that one could just go to by walking…

"…When did you get here?"

A chuckle. At least that sounded more normal…he looked down again, staring at the rocks and gravel under his feet. He could feel that now. Before he couldn't even feel the sharp pains as the stones stabbed the soles of his feet, or the ache in his legs from too much walking (it was going to be a wonder if he could get himself to stand at all, much less start walking back to the house).

"You were kneeling there for a good while, Al."

"…Really?" he asked.

"Yeah. You…seemed deep in thought."

"…Yeah."

'Deep in thought', hm? That didn't seem to cover the half of it. His mind was going a mile an hour, his heart was beating faster than that, and there were more questions running through his mind than an entire textbook could fit. He had so many things he wanted to say, but…

…

It was now or never.

"Winry…?"

"Mmm?"

"…"

"What is it, Al?"

"…What happened to me? When I was in the armor?"

A pause. He didn't know if it stretched out for seconds or minutes, but he felt like he was palpitating and his palms were sweaty. He tried not to lean towards her but he knew he did, almost as if he was literally hanging on her words, the sound of her voice…

"To be honest, Al?"

Uh-huh?

"I…don't really know. Not fully, anyway. Most of the time you and Ed were off doing your own thing, and I rarely saw you two during those years. You got yourselves in a good bit of trouble, though. Everytime you got into trouble, Ed would break his automail, and then you two would come hurrying back here for repairs. It was such a pain sometimes."

_Automail? Oh…right. Brother has fake limbs now…he mentioned that vaguely when talking to Alfons…but he uses something different from Automail now, I think… He must have lost them when trying to bring back Mom…Just like that must have been the time I lost my body, and got stuck in the armor. Obviously Mom didn't come back…_

"I…" Winry paused. "I know that you two must have been through a lot, and…good people that we all knew died back then. I don't know everything but what I do know, I…I didn't know if you were able to handle it. I don't think I would have been able to handle it, if someone told me something like that. One moment I'm in my basement, about to do something monumentally stupid, and the next I'm lying down in a place I don't really know, with someone who I don't know…that would scare me as it is, especially seeing everyone I was close to all grown up while I was still a kid. It was like a blink for you, Al—you're still a kid. I couldn't bring myself to tell you so soon. I knew I had to stop lying to you, but it just…I wanted to wait until you were ready to hear it. Until you'd settled in your new body and were able to at least move decently again. That's what we all wanted, Al. It wasn't about Ed, and it sure wasn't about us. We did it because we cared about you."

_I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I really didn't mean it._

But Al couldn't seem to bring the words out of his mouth, and all Winry could do was keep talking, rising in intensity and volume with each word, until she was almost yelling:

"Now where you got this garbage about it being about your brother is something I'd like to know. How do you interpret doing something for your benefit, to help _you_, as being only for your brother? I know you're lonely without him, Al, but the Alphonse I knew didn't have some whiny brother complex, crying 'he's better than me! Everyone loves him more than me!' like an attention-starved brat!"

She had him there. Al flinched, hard, and found himself hugging his knees, huddling closer into himself.

"I…" he mumbled lamely. "I…don't know. I just…you looked so sad, Winry. Everyone did. When Brother was home, and when we were all normal, everyone was happy. But…even though I'm okay…Brother's gone, so everyone was upset without him. It was childish…"

"You're right about that." Winry snorted. "It _was_ childish, Al. Of course we miss Ed…but that doesn't mean that we care about you any less. It's just…hard to deal with."

"I…I know."

"We both used to rely on him, you know? When we were kids, I mean. If we didn't know where to go, Ed would help us along. Maybe not in the most 'helpful' of ways, but he always managed to give the two of us direction when we didn't know where to go."

…Direction, hm? Was that it? He had always seen his brother as a guiding light, one who had always been there for him—but Winry thought that way, too?

She didn't…?

Despite himself, Alphonse felt the tiniest bits of hope crawling up in his gut.

"Yeah…"

…How eloquent of him.

"But Al…he's gone. He's not coming back."

"Yes he is, Winry."

"Al, what makes you think that he will? And don't say your dreams, because there's no way that"

"Just a feeling."

"A 'feeling', huh? What if this 'feeling' of yours is wrong?"

_I'll find a way to that other world and drag him back myself. _

"…It isn't."

_Alfons'll help him. _

Winry sighed. "Al, I…"

"I bet you that it is, Winry."

"…"

"…"

Another sigh, followed by a chuckle.

"All right Al, I'll bite. What'll you wager?"

"…George."

---

_  
"Al…I'm sorry…this is all that's left." _

_Everything was gone. The rafters he used to play in with his brother, the walls behind which he'd read books until he grabbed so many the bookcase would nearly fall on him, the flower garden, the mailbox, the front porch, the…_

_It was all gone. _

_Ash and char stood in its wake, assaulting his nose, his eyes, his mind, wood chips scattered around the ground. _

_Nothing. _

_Nothing was left. _

_"Winry…this…"_

_"You and Ed…you burned it down…shortly after trying to resurrect your mom." _

_"Why?!" He could already stand. Knees buckled and he crumpled to a heap at her feet, hands on the ground, staring. "Why would we do that?! It doesn't make sense!!" _

_Winry had said nothing. If Al remembered correctly, that was the last straight-up truth she had told him before now. _

_---_

He didn't understand it then, but he knew it now. At least to a small degree. It had to have been right after he became armor, though for some reason they had burned the house down. What had happened, to make them want to do that? They obviously were traveling back then, and his brother was in the military…

Was that why?

…

George was the only thing that was left. A torn up old horse, sitting on Winry's shelf even before the incident. He didn't remember why he'd even left it there—it was his favorite besides his stuffed cat, but that was lost in the blaze, obviously…

He kept it on the shelf, but since he had come back, he hadn't had the heart to sleep with him again.

But…

Of that time, it was the only thing that remained. The only thing not burned.

"You're betting that old battered thing for Ed's return? You really _are_ still a kid." Though she had chuckled…Alphonse wasn't sure if it was a chuckle or a hiccup, something deceptive for all the lightness in her tone.

"It's more than that," Al wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead almost held his breath, waiting for Winry to start speaking again:

"So…if you bet George…then I'll bet…"

…

…

Two minutes. Three. Four. They passed by easily, but with anticipation, the hairs on the back of Al's neck standing up with a mixture of hope (A kiss? A date?) and anxiety…He was turned away, but he could feel every bit of his attention focused on her…

"Winry…?"

"I'll remove every bit of Ed's debt if he comes back. If he doesn't come back within five years, you're going to have to get a job and work off every bit of cash that he owes us."

Wait, _what_?! His brother owed _money_ for--?! He knew that he had automail, and he had a feeling that Winry and Auntie had been the ones to maintain it, but…

What kind of person had his brother turned into?! First they tried to resurrect their mother, but after that, did his brother go down into the lowest areas of depravity and start _mooching_ and _freeloading_ off his close friends and family?! He had worked for the military, right? At least, that was what he kept hearing…

And State Alchemists got paid, right?

Where did that money go?!

Al didn't realize he was turned to Winry, most likely making gigged frogs look at him while shaking their heads, until he snapped out of his thoughts and saw her blue eyes dance, and saw her smile.

His face was probably red, wasn't it?

…

Yeah.

Yeah it was.

"Al, don't give me that look! It's not _that_ much. Just the cost of normal automail maintenance!"

…which was enough to make rich men look at her with a saddened look in their eyes when she named her price. "Not that much"…what was she comparing it to?!

"Well…" she laughed again, and Al swore that his body started growing warm. "Not that much compared to the amount of money in property damages that your brother had to pay, anyway."

_Property damages?! _

So his brother not only skipped out on his bills, but he also wrecked cities, too?!

…

Somehow…he couldn't find himself truly surprised by that.

But still…

"P-Property damages?"

"Yeah. Apparently his superiors in Central got so irritated with fixing the damages he caused that they ended up taking all collateral out of his pocket. He came and complained about it during a bit of maintenance once. He would always say 'it wasn't my fault', and then you would correct him, giving me the full story instead of _his_ version, which usually made a bit more sense with the circumstances."

So he was still like that…

In a sense…

His brother hadn't really changed.

"I guess…Brother never really changed much during that time, huh?"

Winry's expression softened. Her blue eyes were sparkling just a tiny bit, and her smile…her smile was warmer…gentler…

"Nope. Not really. He just grew in size. You were the one who changed."

Al blinked.

"Me?"

"Yeah. You…grew up. Where Ed, in many ways, stayed a child, you forced yourself to grow up—to hold it together for him. I look at you now, and I really notice the change."

He had…grown up. Where his brother hadn't, he had. Where did he grow up? How did he grow up? How was he different from then from now?

…

"How?"

She threw him a quizzical look. "What do you mean 'how'?"

"How did I change? From then to now?"

"You…I can't really explain it. You lost something that I thought you would never get back, back then…I can't describe it, but I can't help but have the feeling that as you grew up…some part of you died, so that your brother could live. You always used to be very expressive, and state your feelings clearly—but during that time you really needed to hold it together for Ed's sake, so even if something bothered you, you had to hold it in…let Ed do the expressing."

"So I…"

"You did what you could to hold the both of you up, no matter what it took."

Funny that he would have been encased in armor, then.

"I guess…I don't really remember. Alfons, in my dreams, he tells me about my memories, but even he doesn't know all of them. Brother seems to, but he won't say anything…I guess since he doesn't trust Alfons yet. Alfons even has something like I do, though he doesn't show it to anybody…Instead he pretends like it doesn't exist, and is still shocked about Brother being in his world in the first place. There are a lot of machines in that world, Winry…you'd like it. It's run completely on physics, as if Alchemy never existed…well, actually, according to Brother, Alchemy can't even be used on that side…But somehow Alfons, he…"

---

_"What the…? What is this…?"_

_His eyes stared at it, body trembling. It couldn't have been real—there was no way. Why would something like this exist? This was from his dreams—not from any sort of reality that he knew of. This was something that he would see at night, when his head hit the pillow…not when he was awake, sane, and when the world was just starting to seem normal around him for a change…_

_"Hey, Alfons! You there?" _

_Alfons closed his shirt quickly, buttoning it up before Dorrecht could go into the room and see, and most likely give him some questions…_

_---_

"Al, maybe he's just your memories trying to reach out to you." She was trying, she really was. "And your brother's there because you miss him. If this 'Alfons' tells you all your memories, maybe then the dreams will go away?"

It wasn't that simple. There had to be more to it than that…

But Alphonse only nodded, turning away to look out towards the water.

"…Maybe. I know what I see, Winry. I really think that there really is another world out there."

"As nice as that would be, Al, I really don't think there is one. And even if there was, Ed can't use Alchemy, right? There's no way he'd be able to get back to the other side."

"You sound like you've given up on him."

"I haven't given up on him. I'm just not going to spend my time wishing and waiting for someone who might not come home. If I tell myself that he's never coming back, it'll hurt me less than if I simply say 'he's coming back!' every single day and keep staring out the window, just like I have been…"

Something in his heart tugged. He wasn't sure if it was at her words or her tone, half-desperate, half calming…he could almost picture her clenching and unclenching her fist, head turned away, staring off to the side.

She missed his brother just as much as he did. So…

"Winry, who are you trying to convince?" he asked, "You're not fooling anybody. You want him to come back home just as much as I do."

"Just because you _want_ him to come back," she whispered, "doesn't mean he will."

"He will. Trust me, Winry. He will."

_…He'd better. _

"Al…"

…

---

_"Winry? What's this mark on my chest mean?" _

_"What are you talking about, Al? You've always had that." _

---

"Winry…?"

"Mm?"

"The mark on my chest…that's the blood seal, isn't it? That's what held me to my armor."

Another sigh. "…I may not know Alchemy, but…yeah. I think it is. But Al?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm…sorry. For slapping you."

"It's okay. I deserved it."

"But Al…" He wasn't facing her, but he knew that she was running her fingers through her hair, maybe threading it in and out, tossing it behind her shoulder as she stared down at a rock that was at her feet…or maybe even stretching out… "I know I can't possibly understand your situation, or what you're going through…but for the time being, try to rely on us a bit more, all right? If you need to know something, I'll tell you all I can. If you need anything, anything at all…come to one of us. Miss Izumi, me, Granny, anyone. We'll all do what we can to help you."

All willing to help him, huh…

Al let out a soft sigh, resting his chin on his knees, scooting just a bit towards her, despite himself.

"All right. I'll come to you then if anything happens."

If Winry had a problem with Al saying 'you' instead of 'someone', she never vocalized it; rather, the two stayed silent, side-by-side, watching the water on the river in silence until the sun set completely behind the horizon.

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

Edward Elric should have watched where he was leaning. He shouldn't have been leaning as close as he was, staring at parted lips for the occasional English word, something to piece together whatever in the hell was going on in this world or the next, strung together only in half-sentences and word fragments that made about as much sense as the cruel fates who had decided to make him shorter than his own younger brother. He shouldn't have been leaning so close, staring intently enough to where nothing else in the room existed—

For the first thing that Alfons Heiderich did when he woke up—it must have been sometime right before Dawn, Edward wasn't paying attention, to be honest—was swing his arm out, almost in a flailing daze, which managed to hit Edward square in the face.

Not hard enough to hurt, mind you. Just hard enough to knock him backwards, rolling off the bed and onto the floor with an ungraceful _thud_, slamming on the ground with enough force to almost knock the "FUCK!" out of his lips (not quite—though it sounded more like a growl than an actual word), and send his prosthetic leg slipping out from under him.

Rustling.

That's what he had heard.

Alfons was already out of bed, padding on the floor—bare feet on wood always made that damn sound—and he was across to the desk in seconds, pulling out drawers and yanking out a piece of paper, grabbing a pen in an equally haphazard manner.

He was already in the seat scribbling when Edward managed to stand.

"Alfons, what the _hell_ was that? What did you—"

No response was even to be had from him. Instead he scribbled away, as if he wasn't even there.

"Alfons!"

"Important. Don't bother me."

'Important'? So whatever it was that he was writing down was more important than suddenly getting up, hitting him in the face, randomly saying things he should have had no ability to say—

He had a right to know, damn it.

The moment he uttered Winry's name, as well as various other words in his home tongue, he made it his business.

Edward grabbed Alfons's shoulder, _hard_.

"Important—I'll show you what's important, you asshole! You were talking in your sleep, in a language you can hardly speak to save your life, and now you wake up and start writing shit down and you're not even going to bother telling me what's going o—"

"I'll tell you later," came Alfons's curt reply, still scribbling. "Can't now. I'll forget."

…

"Forget _what_?"

"I'll tell you later!" With his free hand, Alfons made quick dismissal motions, much like a master would speak to a servant, and Edward would be damned if it didn't piss him off. "Let me write this down!"

"Write _what?_"

"Don't mind about that!" came the irritated snort, "I'll tell you later, just let me _finish _this!"

"And I keep asking you 'WHAT'! You mentioned _Winry,_ Alfons. Now tell me what the hell's going on before I—"

The scribbling finally stopped with an abrupt jerk of his elbow, knocking Edward slightly off-balance as he grabbed the paper, shoved it in his pocket, and flung the door open, dashing down the hall like his pants were on fire.

…

"Alfons, wait, damn it!"

A little bit too late for THAT. He was already gone and down the hall, spinning a corner and out of sight.

If only a few doors hadn't already started opening, trying to determine the source of the noise…

_SHIT! _

He slammed the door, _hard_, leaning back against it with a loud sigh, even as he slipped down to sit on the floor.

Damn it—someone would see him if he had went outside then.

Damn Alfons, what the…What the hell was that?

What was so important that he needed to write it down right away?

And why was he starting to think that somehow, Alfons might have been slightly certifiable?


	12. Confessions over Porcelain

**Chapter 11: Confessions over Porcelain  
**

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

Since he was little, Alfons had often dabbled in the subject of dreams, mostly for the sake of explaining just what it was that was going on in his head every night. Books, old wives tales, some scattered psycho or another saying that he foresaw the apocalypse in his dreams (hardy har har…if he only knew what Alfons saw in _his_…maybe the man would have stepped down and started crying just at the mere mention of Laboratory Five)…often dancing about in his brain, but never holding any real attention…yet the subject never took a lasting interest in it.

Dreams were singular. That's what he had always thought.

No sight through another one's eyes, none of that. If a dream was about a continuous topic, then it was a sort of fantasy the mind created to help deal with the many stresses of everyday life.

…

But what happens when the dreams become real?

_"You're…real, right? Alfons? You really talk to my brother, right? He's really going to be coming home?" _

Edward, Al…

He'd known for a little while—He wasn't sure when it fully clicked, to be honest—that everything that was going on wasn't his imagination, or a dream. That really was another world that he was seeing, and that Edward really was someone from another side of a gate coming to see him.

But…

_"Alfons even has something like I do, though he doesn't show it to anybody…"_

Alfons sighed, opening up his shirt, buttoning it down just a little bit, enough for the outside of the red ring to be visible in his reflection.

A red ring, inside which was a nine point star, with a strange symbol in the center—it was something more like a pair of scales than a symbol, spiraling in and out of each other. Red like blood, etched into the skin. Something not unlike what Al had on his chest, he was sure (Despite the obvious differences in point number and basic structure)—though how he got it was another story altogether.

_I'd kept my hair long in the back for a reason_, he thought sourly, _And now it's all to waste. Ever since a few months ago…_

Ever since the dreams started again, it had been here.

_Here,_ on his chest. Before it had been the back of his neck, easily concealable by hair but still bizarre in its appearance just the same. His mother had been the one who found it, bless the woman…though why she didn't raise a fit about it was anyone's guess. Just suggested he keep his hair long in the back with that smile of hers and that was that. Before he could at least pretend a small bit of normalcy (_Pretend? What about those trips to the church? Or those canteens of Holy Water? I wouldn't exactly call that 'normal'_), push the dreams to the back of his mind…

_Now I can't even change without worrying that someone's going to see it, and start to ask questions. I'm lucky as it is that Edward believed me about the details I had managed to tell him; what are the chances that anyone else would be just as grudgingly accepting? _

Next to never, it was true.

Next to never, and yet…

…

If he hadn't thought this over again and again in his brain ever since the day Edward came here, and backpedaling back to before he met Edward, even more than that…

This would have been a lot crazier than it sounded right now.

Crazy, but more real than his tendency to have study-trances when into a book, forgetting everyone and everything around him like they didn't exist.

Real, like…

His hand twitched.

Alfons let out a sigh, all too aware of the crumpled piece of paper that he was holding. That damn thing that made him run into the bathroom in the first place, that caused this entire damned mess…

"_Important—I'll show you what's important, you asshole! You were talking in your sleep, in a language you can hardly speak to save your life, and now you wake up and start writing shit down and you're not even going to bother telling me what's going o—"_

Oh yes. Edward was going to kill him when he got ahold of him. Not like he didn't have much of a reason to; logic stated that Alfons probably should have slowed down his scribbling, if not for a few seconds, to look up and talk to the man, if only to give him an inkling of what was going on so he could shut up and maybe gain some patience that _had_ to exist somewhere in that thick skull of his…

But what about dealing with Edward Elric required logic? The man's thought patterns in themselves were erratic, his temper a wild card and his personality even more so.

He was going to be in one hell of a mess when he walked out of this bathroom.

Taking a deep breath, Alfons faced the mirror, staring at his own tired reflection (God, it was like he never even slept a wink all night! Did he really get so out of sorts when he dreamed?) before flicking his eyes down at his hand again.

He might need to consult that. Even if he remembered his dream enough to write the important bits down…

Who knew what he might forget in the midst of talking?

_What if…_

He took a quick look back towards the door.

…Nothing. Safe.

Oh, thank _God_.

The last thing he needed was Edward barreling through the door, after all…

Alfons stared at the mirror, at his own weary face, took a deep breath, and decided that a onesided Q and A session was most definitely in order.

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

It was official: Alfons Heiderich was insane.

Either that, or he had this natural ability to make himself seem more suspicious than he really was, making Ed's head spin and his mind run miles upon miles a minute. Right when he thought he'd had him figured out, he'd pull something random out of his ass—something like _this_—and then it would be back to the drawing board.

Though he knew full well what happened when his mind 'went back to the drawing board'.

...

Okay, so the Envy theory wasn't one of his _best_ ideas.

Though at this rate, Envy would have made more sense than this. A guy who sees Al through his dreams, talks about his home in his sleep…Not to mention acted erratic and was about as incomprehensible as…as…

_**"And Mister Edward? I'm sure you'll be able to go home to that…Resemburgh place eventually. Don't give up!"**_

…As her.

God, now long had it been since he had been able to really talk to her? A week, at least. Where he'd see her, there was Alfons, close behind…or, conversely, wherever he saw Alfons, there she was close behind. It was almost irritating, feeling his mouth start to dry before the words could come out…

If he spoke to her, then Alfons would have something to say about it.

But if he spoke to Alfons, nothing would get done. Nothing _ever_ got done with that idiot when he asked him things. He gave him answers that only led to more _questions_. More and more until he was sure he was going to snap and ask what God that could have ever existed for a cheat sheet and let all of this get over with (he'd ask the Gate, but he wasn't too keen on losing another limb, thanks). This world was real, and really was powered by Alchemy. Alfons was his own person, and he really did dream of Al, and sometimes went a bit batshit on occasion.

But _why_?

_How_?

Why was he here instead of inside the Gate? He should have been the price for Al to get his body back.

But Alfons saw him.

Al was fine.

He was fine.

They were both _fine_, dammit, and yet—

What had he given up? What was the cost? What was the whole point of this? Was his living in this hell, the other side of fucking nowhere the 'price' he had to pay? Alternate World, Other side of the Gate, Reflection—whatever it was.

It didn't even make any _sense_.

…Neither did she.

Edward slumped down onto the floor, cradling his now concealed fake arm in his real one, head leaning back against the closed door.

This world in itself…nothing made sense.

_And you're still thinking this __**now**__? Think it'd be obvious by now that nothing was right. Alfons, the little girl…what's next? Mr. Oberth might ask me about my attempts at Human Transmutation, or Dog-bo—err, Dorrecht, or whatever in the hell his name is, might just up one day and talk about how much it sucks to die and suddenly come back to life. Hell, maybe everyone knows about my world, and I'm the only idiot who seems to think it's something different or special. _

…Yeah right.

Everyone knowing? If everyone knew, then Alfons wouldn't have been the only one to see through him.

Well…him and that little girl…

What the hell was up with her, anyway? She knew something, but never approached him about it again. Not like Alfons, who seemed to like to bludgeon "Hey! You're from another world, Ed! How's that feel??" into his head at every opportunity. It was like a parade of reminders. One after the other…and she…

…

How did she know that, anyway?

Did she dream about him, like Alfons did?

She didn't seem to look like she'd known him personally. She just looked like a little girl who'd met him for the first time. Then how did she…?

He hadn't said anything.

But even so...

…

That innocent smile flashed in his mind. The guileless look, and the sparkling brown eyes. It was like it was normal for her to say, or that he'd mentioned it himself. Casual conversation.

_"Bigger Brother isn't eating his dinner! That's no good! You have to eat to get grown up!"_

_A sigh—a low, metallic sigh…if armor could sigh. Jewel-red eyes staring down, shoulders slumping…in hindsight, it was amazing that he could even sit on the chair at all without breaking it. How much did that armor weigh again…? It certainly felt like a lot when Al fell on his back that one time, when Klause and her group had decided to take the two of them by surprise all those years ago…_

_"I think I'm plenty…" _

_Elder and younger brother exchanged looks amongst each other…only for the younger to slump down even further than before, defeated. _

_"Thanks…"_

_'Thanks, even though I can't taste it'. _

_'Thanks, I know you mean well'. _

_'Thanks, though I wish I __**could**__ eat it'. _

_Even as he took the potato in hand and lifted up his helmet (humans didn't lift up their helmets and throw potatoes down their collar…especially not whole ones. Anybody would know that), tossing the potato inside the armor, blue eyes stared at him with such wide-eyed honesty. Almost motherly, now that he looked back on it. _

_It was hard to say how a 4 year old looked like a mother, but it did remind him of her. The worried frown, the straightforward eyes, the watchful expression…_

_"Wow, it sure looks delicious!" _

_The little girl, Nina, still leaned over the table, giving Alphonse Elric an adorably stern look, even though her voice couldn't have been stern even if it tried its hardest, cute as it was: _

_"Make sure you chew!!"_

…Great. Perfect time to be remembering _that_ innocent smile. That definitely wasn't what Ed was hoping to think of. Around the same age, same height…

But darker skin, shyer, and Nina sure as hell didn't know things that nobody else was supposed to know.

It…

It just…

_"__**I'm sure you'll be able to go home to that…Resemburgh place eventually."**_

There had to be _something._ People didn't just _know_ things. Maybe she was like Alfons. She had to have been. There was no such thing as 'psychic powers' or 'magic' or anything like that. Besides, none of that could possibly have existed on this side, right? The souls here powered the Alchemy on the other side…this world was run by technology, steam…a world of mechanical wonders…

Sure as hell wasn't a magic or psychic convention.

There had to be....

There had to be _some_ reason…

For both Noa's so-called 'clairvoyance', and Alfons's sudden insanity…

But what was it?

What was…?

It didn't make sense.

Just like everything else in this crazy world.

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

"…I don't remember much after that, though."

He must have been standing there a while. His arms were against the porcelain, tired, cramped…he wasn't exactly sure why or how. He hadn't leaned that much against the sink, and he certainly would have remembered if he did grow to lean too much (after all, his nose would have been touching the mirror, which he was a comfortable distance away from). His legs even felt a bit tired, feet feeling the brunt of his whole underweight body…How did he manage _that_? He could carry engine chassis (if Law would _let_ him…), but he couldn't even carry his own weight.

Something had to be wrong. Or maybe it was just him, or the weight of the situation itself.

How long had he been in here again?

"It's sort of faint, really…" He wondered how much of this Al would even believe…if he'd believe any of this at all. Maybe he was just really talking to himself…at least, that's what he would have liked to believe, leaning against this thing and feeling uncomfortable as all hell. "I can't really remember much…"

A laugh. Though maybe it was more humorless than he would have liked, judging the circumstances.

"I can't even remember why you're in the body you are now. What happened with all that…I'd like to know myself. Hell, I'd like to know why all this is happening in the first place. Last I checked, I was just a normal guy. A normal guy who had weird dreams and a weird mark on his body—"

_"Lord, please purge this sinner of his Curse. Purge it from me and grant me access into the Gates of Heaven…"_

_And again he splashed the water on himself, shivering…_

"But I was normal, right? Before all this, I could just say that I was dreaming, and maybe I…I was just…"

_"Alfons! STOP! This has gone too far!"_

_"But, Mother, I..."_

_"You're my son!" the woman's eyes flashed in panic—so much different from her usual calm eyes, and that usual soft voice, that often spoke to him so tenderly. "You're not cursed. I won't believe it! There's nothing wrong with you!!"_

_"I…"_

_"Did you hear me, Alfons Heiderich?!?!" _

"….Yeah. Normal."

Right. Who the hell was he kidding? Normal? With _that_ on him? At least on his neck it was concealable, and nobody really looked past your hair anyway.

But your chest?

The Priests would have a field day with that.

"Alfons Heiderich, the Cursed Boy."

"Alfons Heiderich, the Link between the World of God and the World of Heathens."

"Alfons Heiderich, the Psychotic Son of Satan."

….And people would come from all over, just to get a glimpse at him. Maybe to throw rocks at him, who knows? Or just to spit at him or to curse him for all eternity.

...who knows, really.

"I'll do my best to help you with your brother, though I'm not sure what I can do. All I really want to do is build rockets. Nothing more. I don't know anything about bringing people through other worlds, or…I don't...I'm not an expert in this."

Not an Expert? That was an understatement.

Understatement of the _year_, really.

"Just…I don't know…"

_"I wonder…if anybody believed you, when you dreamed? Winry doesn't believe me. She doesn't think Brother's coming home. She doesn't think you're real, either. But you're real, right? I mean…you have to be. I don't know how, but…"_

"…I don't know why nobody's called me crazy yet. Al, I won't lie to you and say that I have the answers to all your problems, and that Ed is going to be home tomorrow and everyone's going to be a happy family. That's not how it works. That's not how life works. You can't just expect things to fall in your lap, or for things to go exactly the way you want them to. To expect that is…"

_"What the hell?! What the hell did I do to get such a daydreamer for a son?!"_

"…That's stupid. But I can't say that I won't do my best. I'll do my best to bring your brother home. And if I can't, then…"

_"Sometimes, people just can't do things. Don't let what Dad said get to you." _

_Alfons glanced up, wiping the spare tears from his eyes. Even with his hair hanging down over his face, obstructing it somewhat, the tearstains were still evident. And as he looked up, hiding less and showing more…_

_"You don't have to beat yourself up, Alfons. You can't do much. It's fine. You'll read books and get into University someday. Maybe become a professor or something…that's not really much, but it's something, you know?"_

_"Yeah…"_

_"Seriously, Alfons. Just do what you've always done. You can't change yourself, and Dad can't change you. You may get sick a lot, but…"_

"...Then I'll have proven just what everyone had said about me all along, I guess."

.............Even as Alfons Heiderich stood, silent, in front of the mirror, eyes lowering down to the porcelain of the flimsy sink...

He had a feeling that if Alphonse Elric was in front of him right then, physically...

He would have punched him.

Hard.

...

In the face.

Not that Alfons would have expected anything less.

Really.

After all, Al never did like people to talk down about themselves...

...even if Alfons really _was_ pathetic.

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

Alfons had avoided all topics of conversation, the bastard.

Nothing Edward said went through that skin of his; rather, a neutral look would be thrown his way, those unnerving eyes of his looking elsewhere, anywhere...

Anywhere but _him_, it seemed.

...The closer he came to figuring him out, the more he seemed to move away, and then blow every idea of 'knowing' out of the water. Falling on his face was only fun so many times. As was landing in puddles, hitting walls, getting stared at...

_"Hey, look. He's staring at Alfons again."_

_"Isn't it sort of creepy?"_

_"You're tellin' me."_

_"What's up with that guy, anyway..." _

_"No clue. But you never know what those Americans are scheming..."_

...And that talking behind his back was really starting to piss him off.

He was always on the other end of the table, blueprints moved almost possessively away from him. What the hell, it was almost as if touching them would make them tainted, like he was some sort of Pariah or something (_Hate to see what'd happen if they saw the prosthetics,_ Ed thought with a grimace).

Damn that old man. He'd said that America was a _good_ cover-story; the most it got him were glares, Alfons, and _this_. If he ever found him again, the bastard was due a good slug in the face.

_...If_ he ever found him again, was the key word. Though it was true that he couldn't get away from his influence no matter where he went, but to see him in person ever again...

Where was he now?

...London? New York? Berlin? If Ed had a mark for every city his father had been to, he'd most likely be able to buy a loaf of bread.

...

Had inflation gotten any worse in Munich since he left? Probably. The place was in a shambles as it was—and with time, it could only get worse. It was no wonder that Alfons's clothes were ratted as they were, with the fringes on the sleeves, and the slight wear around the hems--

_Damn it. _

His eyes had fallen on Alfons again.

He was bending down, fingers grazing along the paper of the blueprints, eyes scrunched in concentration--

_What the hell am I doing? _

This was ridiculous. Alfons wasn't some strange phenomenon that he was unable to figure out; he was just some guy. Some guy who looked like his brother, and happened to know a little bit too much...

Some guy who looked like his brother, happened to know a little bit too much, and was too fucking _convenient_. Wasn't it a bit too coincidental that he would meet someone who happened to know all these things right when he was studying for a way to get home? Wasn't it a bit too convenient that he happened to share a room with Alfons? Wasn't it a bit too convenient that Alfons was close to a weird little girl that seemed to know things?

So, what? Was it a sign that the God that he always thought never existed, did exist? Was it some sort of 'sign' that those idiotic religious bastards seemed to go on and on about?

He had to get out of there.

He was thinking about it far more than he needed to. Far more than was healthy—

"Edward?"

_Oh __**hell**__ no. _

The fact that Alfons was giving him a look at a time like this, _finally_ deciding to say something after not wanting to say _anything_ before...

This was bullshit.

Complete utter fucking _bullshit_.

And he wasn't going to stand for it. Not on his watch. If Alfons wanted to be this mysterious, weird, fucking insane guy who knew too much, explained nothing, and practically flaunted it all like a cheap Central floozy, then he could do that all he wanted.

It was none of his damn business.

Edward threw Alfons a glare in response to his surprised look, pushing back his chair and spinning around on his heel, stomping away from the table as quickly as he could go.

_"What the hell—is he __**blushing**__?" _

_"Come on— don't be stupid." _

He couldn't stay in there. One more minute and a punch was going to fly, or he was going to simply go insane--

Right, left. Right, left, right...left...

He threw the door open, storming outside...

This had been a bad idea to go here—such a damned bad idea—Al was probably having an easier time with Winry and Pinako—damn it all, why did he have to go to this dustbowl on the other side of _nowhere—_he wanted to go _home_--

---

**Transylvania, 1921**

---

...the angry man who always walked around with Alfons was angry again.

Noa knew that she wasn't supposed to be around the workroom (It was dangerous—Alfons always warned her that it was dangerous, and there were also mean looking men and Mr. Dog man). She wasn't supposed to be around there at all, and little girls weren't supposed to be looking at grownup stuff where she could get hurt. Besides, she wouldn't understand what they were doing, and...

...But she heard yelling, and growling voices when she came around the corner...

...

Good girls didn't eavesdrop either.

...

But she couldn't help it! She could hear them and so she went over towards them, and, and...

_**Damn it...**_

He was saying bad words.

_**They don't know anything...fucking assholes. If this was home...if this was home, I wouldn't even need to go through this shit. I'd just transmute the damn thing and have it done with. But wait—I forgot. Alchemy's nothing more than a pseudo-science here...just a bunch of old men throwing wands around and acting like witches over a fucking brew. Let's throw in some dead guys hung from crosses while we're at it, too? Maybe come in an egg, bury it, and hope a magic servant comes out. Or eat Cinnabar and Mercury for stomachaches and corrode our insides. **_

Witches? Brew? Mercury?

What did 'corroding' mean? Was that good? The way he put it, it didn't seem to be very good...She'd ask Alfons later, he'd know!

...But she wouldn't tell him that she heard him when he wasn't opening his mouth. That would be bad...and she would have eavesdropped and good girls never eavesdropped...

But...

He didn't even seem to notice that Noa was there. His blonde hair was ragged and hanging down his face, eyes closed, hands jammed into his pockets...

His legs were moving in an uneasy stride, wobbling almost as he moved past her. His jacket seemed to be too tight on him, and his pants looked uncomfortable. Was he okay? He also was scowling, like he was really angry...

_**I need to get the hell out of here. I don't know how much longer I'm going to take this...The longer I stick around here, the longer Al will go without me, and I won't even get to see if the Transmutation worked...**_

...

"What's Transmutation?"

Noa said it faster than she could think, and almost covered her mouth before the man stopped. She didn't mean to say it! She'd just thought of it, and her thoughts had come out in words, and oh he had to be mad at her now! People were always mad at her when she talked about people when they didn't open their mouths...

_Oh no...is he mad at me? Don't be mad at me, Mister—I didn't mean it! I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!! I won't do it again!_

He turned around...

_**What the fuck? What did she just say?**_

_Ummm...um...I'm sorry, I'm sorry!_

And then their eyes met.

_**It couldn't—how the hell would she—it's just like before...**_

"Like before?" Was she bad then, too?

...

At that moment...

_**She...**_

Wide gold met frightened brown.

_I'm sorry! Please don't be mad!!_

The man who was yelling in his mind let out a soft breath, speaking in almost a whisper.

"...What did you just say?"


	13. Author's Note

To all those who have been faithfully reading this story and waiting for it to update:

I was unhappy with how this story was going (as well as the writing, but let's not get into that), so I had, a while back, decided that I would rewrite it with my original vision for the story in mind. This version will go through regular updates, with both improved writing and altered scenes and plot. A lot of scenes may be much longer than they originally were, and some things would change, and so on.

Than you so much for your patience, and I promise that this story will be all the better because of it.

You can find the new story under the title: "Fullmetal Alchemist: To Find Shamballa"

Thank you very much!

~Jennifer Darknight


End file.
